


Astraphobia

by Muriel_Perun



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Halloween, Humor, M/M, Mental Illness, Mental Institutions, Mental instituions treated irreverently, Mortal Loki, Temporary Character Death, post-avengers au, raunchy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-01-27 07:31:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12576784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muriel_Perun/pseuds/Muriel_Perun
Summary: Loki falls to earth and goes to a party. In Brooklyn. With Thor. Or is it really Thor?





	1. Hard Landing

**Author's Note:**

> Halloween 2017, I thought this was almost finished. Ha! Now it's finished.
> 
> If you are triggered by irreverent treatments of mental institutions, please don't read this.

One moment Loki stood before the throne of Odin, finishing what he thought had been an exceedingly witty remark, the next he slammed down face-first into a very solid surface. 

“Well, that was uncalled for,” he said, or rather mumbled, trying to raise his head. But the shivering took him an instant later as his body transformed into something weak, something _other_ , something he had never experienced before. His vision blurred; he tasted blood. Raising his head with difficulty, he spat and realized he wasn’t in Asgard anymore.

Two figures walked by, staring at him, their faces grey and rotted, their clothing torn. They were walking cadavers—revenants. “By the Norns,” he whispered, shocked, “I must be in Hel!”

The surface beneath him had shattered when he landed, molding itself to his body. He pushed himself up out of the crumbling mass, holding himself awkwardly on all fours as he choked on dust, seeking the strength of his magic and not finding it. Sitting back heavily against a nearby building, he took stock of his surroundings.

He appeared to be in a city, a Midgardian city—perhaps the very one he had so very recently tried to destroy. Hel was reputed to be a place of illusion where you saw places you had known in life and relived your most shameful deeds. Loki shook his head angrily and tried to rub the blur out of his eyes. Of course, that was just what your parents said to scare you. No one actually knew.

The figures that walked past him from time to time looked distinctly strange. There was no rhyme or reason to their dress or demeanor. The first two had looked like revenants, but he had also seen men wearing white masks with many holes in them, carrying some sort of weapon, and women dressed in clothing so voluptuous it was repellent. Some had wings or grotesque faces; others resembled animals, with furry bodies and dangerous-looking teeth. None of them were clear in his vision. The fall seemed to have shaken him deeply, altering his perceptions.

With his back against the wall, he struggled to his feet, fighting vertigo. Looking down the sidewalk, he saw a flash of red.

Could it be? Had Thor followed him to Hel?

He stepped out into the path and, struck with surprise, jumped back to flatten his body against the building, for the color he had seen was a reflection of the lights around him off the red and gold carapace of the metal man, Tony Stark.

Snarling with fury, he readied himself and sprang again into the path, ready to fight—and froze.

It was worse than he had thought. By the side of the metal man, he saw the infuriating Captain America, with his blue jumpsuit and bulls-eye shield, and the Hawk, with his compound bow and quiver slung over one shoulder. Behind, and towering over them, was the green man, the architect of Loki’s recent defeat. More figures marched behind them, but Loki had seen enough to puzzle him and fill him with rage. How came they to Hel, a perilous journey that only a few living men had ever made? And how could they arrive here so quickly on his heels?

Reaching for his magic, Loki swung his arm out in a horizontal semi-circle, hoping to mow down like ripe wheat the hated figures he saw marching towards him.

Nothing happened.

Loki backed up two steps and fell into a crouch. Without his magic, he stood no chance against them. Odin had dropped him here defenseless and left him at the mercy of his enemies.

And then a strange thing happened. The metal man came up even with him, stepped around, and kept on going. He and the Captain were talking, laughing together companionably. Loki was stunned. Was he invisible? Had Odin designed for him some unique and exquisite torture where he would wander forever through Hel’s wasteland—in the guise of New York City—as an invisible ghost?

Then he saw what he had hoped to see—the hulking figure of the God of Thunder, coming up the path towards him.

“Thor!” he cried, stalking towards his brother with broad strides. “I knew you wouldn’t let Odin abandon me here. What is this place? Are we in Hel?”

Thor stopped dead in front of him and stared, just stared.

“Brother?” Loki said tentatively, squinting into his face. His features kept shifting. Thor, not-Thor.

Thor finally spoke. “Jesus, dude,” he said, “that costume kicks ass!” Putting one hand up to his mouth, he called to the others. “Hey, guys,” he bellowed, “did you see this guy? He’s amazing. He looks just like Loki!” 

It was Thor, and yet not Thor. The costume was right, the hair, but the face was subtly wrong, not that Loki could see well yet. Things remained stubbornly out of focus, surrounded by fuzzy little halos of light. He was dizzy, a little sick; his head felt overheated, and his heart pounded in his chest. What was wrong with him?

“Thor?” he said again, taking his not-quite brother by the shoulders.

The others had come back to surround them. The metal man and the green one—who looked positively tiny now—the ridiculous Captain America, the Hawk—everyone except the woman was there again, facing him.

Stark removed his headpiece to take a better look. “Hell, yeah,” he said appreciatively. “He looks exactly like him. The armor, and the cuts on his face, and everything.”

Loki was thunderstruck. He knew now what had happened. He had guessed correctly—they were all in Hel. Soon after throwing Loki down, Odin must have killed Thor, too—although that thought in itself was astonishing—and some other catastrophe must have wiped out the others. It must be true, as he had heard, that shades, or revenants, did not preserve their memories, their purposes, or their intelligence from life. They became mere reflections, poor counterfeits of themselves. And that was a relief, because perhaps they would not hunt or persecute him here. But it was surprising, also, that these heroes had not passed immediately to Valhalla. There must have been some stain upon their characters, as there was on Loki’s, some evil deeds that they had each concealed. Loki was glad to know it, and yet he felt regret when he looked at Thor, because the only stain on Thor had been put there by his brother long ago. 

It seemed that Mjolnir had ignored it all this time, but in the final judgment it had kept Thor out of Paradise. It must have been the sexual congress they had enjoyed in their youth. Loki could think of no other reason to see Thor here.

“Hey,” Thor was saying excitedly, “let’s bring him with us. Come on, it’ll be great, we can pretend he’s our prisoner, right?”

“Yeah, all right, whatever,” Stark said, turning to Loki. “Dude, you want to go to a party in Brooklyn?”


	2. False Idol

The heroes were each carrying a bottle, and Loki drank deeply from several of them before they mounted a conveyance called an “Uber” to take them where they were going. His head felt even more woozy now, but somehow he felt calmer and less troubled by this strange thing that had had befallen him. 

They passed many tall buildings lit with tiny lights. They crossed a body of water, and then drove through darker streets. There was some disagreement about where they needed to turn. Time seemed distorted here. The heroes must have been here before Loki, since they knew where they were, while Loki had no idea. But how could they have reached Hel before Loki did? And why were they so doubtful about their identities, while he was basically himself? Were they all dead, and was he the only one who remained alive in this underworld place?

Finally they left the conveyance in a dark, narrow street, malodorous with refuse. A light rain had begun to fall. The conveyance drove away, leaving them in the dimness. From nearby Loki heard a deep, thrumming cadence, like the pulse of an enormous heartbeat. In the dark wall, constructed of oblong building blocks, a door opened, letting out several dim figures, and the sound grew louder. Lights flashed inside, throwing a wash of bright color over the wet, uneven pavement.

This was the place they were going. Loki did not know why, or what it was.

Loki’s companions were excited, jabbering unceasingly about women. He could smell the fear and sexual need on them. Although he felt detached from their purpose, whatever it was, he also began to feel the need for coupling arising inside him. He had never known that such things happened in Hel. There were, apparently, many things he had not known about Hel. 

They finished their bottles before entering, tossing the empties in high arcs down the street, laughing maniacally when they produced a hail of broken glass. Loki watched them dispassionately. This custom was not too far removed from the Asgardian tradition of smashing down glasses to demand a refill, a practice he had always associated with Thor and his moronic, boisterous friends. 

Once inside, the noise hit them like a wall, and Loki understood that the sound they heard was some sort of music, with a distorted human voice screaming unintelligible words. At the end of the vast space, he could see those who were producing this sound, lit by spinning, multicolored lights, moving vigorously and manipulating what were apparently musical instruments. The sound they produced struck his bleary, alcoholic thoughts with the force of a powerful, mesmerizing spell. He had never heard anything like it.

“Come on, brother,” Thor shouted in his ear, “you’re my wingman.” Flinging an arm around Loki’s shoulders, he led him off though the crush of dancing bodies. The heady scents of sex and alcohol and sweat made Loki glad that Thor’s arm was around him as they negotiated the crowd, buffeted this way and that by forces they could not resist.

Finally they reached a room with a long counter where bottles glowed in high rows, and Loki understood that they were going to consume more alcohol. The music was not quite so oppressive here. He began to make his way around the counter to grab a pair of bottles when Thor stopped him.

“Are you crazy, dude? Tell me what you want and I’ll order it for you. Do you have any money?”

Loki stared at him, uncomprehending. “Gold?” he asked. “I have none.”

“Of course not,” Thor muttered. “Look, dude, you’re totally in character, and I admire that, but I don’t even know who you are or where you came from. Any cosplayer as good as you—I would have heard of you.”

“I am Loki, and I come from Asgard, as you do,” Loki said, unpleasantly surprised. Had Thor forgotten even that? “Do you not remember? We were raised together there.” Suddenly he couldn’t help grinning at the irony: Thor in Hel, bereft of his strength, his heroism, his memories. Even in Hel, could Loki make this into an opportunity? 

Thor grinned back at him. “You’re something else,” he said admiringly.

Loki had an evil idea. Perhaps he could incite this shade-Thor to do something unworthy, and therefore lose the right to wield Mjolnir, which he had been carrying all night slung across his back. “Brother,” he said slyly, “if you want a drink, do not let these mortals stop you. Strike the counter with Mjolnir and demand what you want.” 

Thor positively sniggered, and it was unbecoming. “Great idea,” he said, “why don’t _you_ try it?” Pulling Mjolnir off his shoulder, he handed her to Loki, who flinched away.                                                                                                                                                                    

“This is unworthy of you, brother,” Loki snapped angrily. Thor wanted to humiliate him. If he tried to take Mjolnir in his hand, she would slam to the ground.

“Hey, man, it’s okay.” Putting the hammer on the counter, Thor took Loki by the shoulders and looked into his face. “I know Loki can’t lift Mjolnir. I get it, you’re passionate about cosplay, right? I am too. But it’s Halloween, for fuck’s sake, and we’re at a fucking party. I paid 50 bucks to get us in here, and I’m buying all the drinks. Can you just lighten up a little?”

A bartender approached them. “What can I get you?” he asked. “And can you get that shit off the bar?” He gestured at Mjolnir. “There are a lot of people here waiting for drinks.” When Thor didn’t move the hammer immediately, the bartender picked it up and thrust it at Loki, who, shocked, automatically took it into his hand—and held it easily. It weighed nothing. The hammer had been strangely transformed, hollowed out, no longer made of the magical metal that gave Thor his strength, but of some sort of resin that Loki could have crushed between his hands, even with his depleted strength.

Thor, strangely, had ignored the whole transaction. “Bourbon,” he said, “two doubles, neat.” He put a wrinkled piece of paper on the counter. The bartender handed him cups of amber liquid. Thor turned and held one out to Loki.

But Loki was still looking at the hammer in his hand, which felt as light as an eggshell. “All the power has gone out of it,” he marveled. Truth be told, this sham world was starting to depress him quite a bit.

“Yeah,” Thor scoffed, taking it back and hanging it over his shoulders. “Chinese costume companies don’t make plastic hammers like they used to make them in Asgard.”

They moved away from the bar and found a spot to stand in a corner near the bathrooms and drink their whiskeys. Loki downed his in almost one go. He felt a sudden outrageous inspiration take hold of him as the alcohol surged into his veins.

“Come on,” Thor said, “let’s find some girls.”

But Loki knew that, without the power of Mjolnir, Thor could do nothing to stop him now, no matter what he decided to do. “Who needs girls?” he asked suggestively.

Pushing Thor’s back against a wall, Loki kissed him, deeply and with real intention, and, after a second’s hesitation, Thor kissed him back. It didn’t taste quite like Thor, but Loki was done trying to figure out what was going on here. And, anyway, they both tasted like bourbon and arousal, and the music thrummed around them as the whiskey pounded in his head, fogging his thoughts and focusing his desires.

“Where can we go so I can take you?” Loki asked provocatively, holding him hard by both arms.

“Fuck, dude. Fuck,” Thor said dazedly. “How did you know? Even my friends don’t know I’m gay. You can’t tell them, man.”

“Where can we go?” Loki insisted.

“This is my fantasy,” Thor said softly, as if speaking to himself. “Oh, my god. This is how I imagined it.” 

Seeing an open door, Loki headed for it. He had no idea what was back there, but he was in no mood to be kept by anyone from fulfilling his desire. 

There was a line at the bathroom, but Loki pushed past it, dragging Thor behind him, oblivious to the complaints and protests of everyone they passed. Inside, everyone stared and stepped aside as Loki shoved past those in his way. No one dared challenge him, and that made him giddy with power. Even here, in the bowels of Hel, even without his magic, he was a force to be reckoned with. 

At the end of the long room, there was a door. It was locked, but Loki forced it open, entered, and shut it behind them, so that suddenly they were groping around in the dark, until Thor found a switch and turned on the light. They were in a storage room, piled with boxes of paper products and cleaning supplies.

“Now, “ Loki said, “kneel to me.”

Meeting Loki’s eyes, Thor seemed to be wavering on his feet, as if he might pass out at any moment. His eyes were glazed over with lust and drunkenness, but he was grinning madly. “Yeah,” he slurred, “you read my mind.”

He dropped awkwardly to his knees and started fumbling with the catch on Loki’s trousers. Loki reached down and undid it for him, letting his glory unfurl. Thor took it into his hand and glanced up at Loki’s face. “I’ll make it good for you,” he said earnestly.

“Make me wet,” Loki ordered, “so I can fuck you with it.”

“Oh, god, yes,” Thor whispered, and took it into his mouth.

He had technique, this one, but he wasn’t Thor. Through the alcohol and pleasure haze Loki suddenly realized it. Thor would have been rough and impatient, sucking hard and using his teeth, while this not-Thor was gentle, almost reverent, flicking his tongue around the sensitive spots and sucking air around his lips to make Loki gasp with the shock of cold. Thor was _forceful_ ; this one _performed,_ and played, and finessed him.

Loki recognized that he had let himself be fooled by appearances—or, rather, that he had fooled himself, since this one had only looked like Thor, but hadn’t otherwise mimicked him. What Loki still didn’t understand was why. But, right now, it didn’t matter. For sex with a highly attractive, willing, and submissive partner, Loki was perfectly willing to put off questions until later.

“Ready me,” Loki said imperiously. “I will have you _now_.” 

With trembling hands, Thor started unrolling a sort of sleeve over the end of Loki’s cock. 

“What is that?” Loki asked, recoiling. 

“Come on,” not-Thor said pleadingly, “I want you, but we can’t do it without protection. I don’t even know you. And, besides, it’s lubricated. It’ll make it easier for you to get inside.” 

Loki could see that the thing was very wet, like a slick second skin, and since taking a man with just spit to ease the way was often not pleasant for either party, he indicated his approval by letting not-Thor smooth the thing over him all the way to the root.

Thor—Loki was determined to pretend for a more few moments that it was indeed his brother—rose, turned, and braced himself on his hands against a large sink just inside the door. Mjolnir’s strap slipped off his shoulder, and the hammer bounced into the sink with a hollow sound. 

“Please go slow,” he panted, and Loki could smell the fear on him. “Holy shit, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’ve _never_ done this with a stranger.”

Thor’s trousers were around his knees when Loki took his hips into both hands and pulled him into position. Thor was trembling, his skin clammy with sweat. His ass was rounded and muscled and covered with a fine layer of blonde down, like the actual Thor’s. Loki decided to take pity on him.

“Do not fear,” he soothed, stretching and wetting the channel with one hand, while the other held Thor’s ass firmly against him. “You’ll see. I’m going to go inside you now, and you’re going to like it.” He kept up a stream of comforting words, feeling Thor relax as he spoke softly and kindly. “I’m going to fuck you better than anyone ever has. You’re ready now. You’re my little slut, Thor. Don’t you want me to mount you? Tell me.”

“Oh, god! Oh, Loki,” not-Thor choked, almost at the point of losing speech. “Do it now. Fuck me!”

Loki did, and was instantly gratified to feel Thor melt against him, overcome. If only it had been the real Thor who pushed back against him so frantically, who moaned and begged so genuinely. But Loki would take what he could get, and this was worth taking. 

They finished spectacularly together, their panting breath echoing loudly in the tiny room. Not-Thor stumbled a little as he stood, pulling up his trousers, and flung his arms around Loki’s neck. “Will I see you again?” he asked. “That was amazing.”

“Perhaps,” Loki said evasively. “Who are you really and why have you taken the semblance of my brother?”

“Dude, you’re scaring me, you know?” Thor straightened his clothing and fished Mjolnir out of the sink. “I’m Craig, and it’s fucking Halloween.”

“What is fucking Halloween?” Loki asked, confused.

“You’re killing me, man. It’s the night when everyone dresses up like someone, like who they _really_ want to be, if they could be anyone in the world. I wanted to be Thor, and, considering how things turned out tonight, I’m glad I did.”

“And your friends wanted to be Captain America...” 

“Yeah, and Iron Man, and Hawkeye, and the Hulk. They saved New York, man. From you!” He laughed gleefully. “Who wouldn’t want to be them? I mean, no offence, dude.”

In a blinding moment of clarity Loki fully realized the depth of his own idiocy. No one had tried to fool him. He had done it to himself. Odin had tossed him down to Midgard like a weight of potatoes on the night when Midgardians performed some obscure rite of disguisement, and he had gotten caught up in it, deciding he was in Hel. He had felt disoriented because of the fall, and because his magic had been taken from him, and then he had started drinking. What embarrassed him above all was that Heimdahl might be watching, might be reporting what he saw to Odin and Thor. But it wasn’t this mortal’s doing, and he didn’t wish to harm one who had just served him so well.

He turned to Craig, laying a hand on his shoulder. “My friend, let us drink,” he said.

The rest of the night was a blur of faces and bodies, of scents, of the taste of alcohol, and—under it all like a heartbeat—the pulsation of the music, driving him further into debauchery. 

Loki took Craig at least once more in the closet, and again in the rain-swept alley, pushing into him roughly as he braced his arms against the wall, until he groaned and his seed splattered on the wet stones, both of them too far gone to worry if they were seen, or by whom. Later, Loki only remembered it in flashes, as he remembered drinking deeply from the bottles they had bought or stolen, on and on through the night, until he woke in another Uber, feeling as if he were looking down at himself from a great height. Lightning flickered in the distance.

“Are you doing that?” Loki asked suspiciously. His mouth was dry and tasted sour.

Thor scoffed. “Of course not,” he replied irritably. 

“Where are we going?” Loki watched the city lights blur in the raindrops on the window. 

“Back to the city,” Thor said morosely. “Where do you want me to drop you?” He didn’t turn to meet Loki’s eyes.

“Drop me?” Loki asked. “Odin has already dropped me once tonight.”

“Enough with the role playing,” Thor said sharply, and Loki remembered with a small shock that he was Craig, not Thor, and that they had both practiced some self-delusion that night.

“You didn’t enjoy it, then?” Loki asked dangerously.

Craig laughed ruefully and shook his head. “Yeah, I did. Too much. See, ever since the Chitauri war, I had this fantasy—that Loki would come for me, that we’d go party, and drink, and have amazing sex, and it would be insane and dangerous. Damn me, I always go for the bad boys.”

“I do not understand,” Loki said slowly. “I did come for you. We did all the things that you desired.” Loki had forgotten now that all of it had happened by chance.

Craig looked at him with red, anguished eyes. “You killed it, dude. You killed my fantasy. It happened, it’s over, and I can’t have it anymore.” He sounded on the verge of tears, his voice thick with emotion. “And it’s worse than that. I have to work tomorrow. I’m going to have a massive hangover, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to sit down for at least a day. And we were fucking right out in the open. If my friends saw me....” He trailed off, rubbing his face with both hands. “Shit, man,” he concluded. “It was as if you really _were_ Loki, you know? You sure played a trick on me.”

As Loki sobered up, he realized that Craig’s blind idiocy was finally starting to bore him. “Take me back where you found me,” he said neutrally, ignoring Craig’s litany of complaints.

“By Stark Tower?”

Of course—where else would Odin have dropped him? “Yes, there,” he said. “Give me the rest of the bottle. And the hammer.”


	3. Moondog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki goes a little too far.

Officers Welsh and Doggett cruised slowly up East 42nd Street, looking cautiously side to side. A red light stopped them at Park.

“We should be close,” Doggett said. “He was supposed to be near Stark Plaza. Maybe we should turn back north.” Welsh nodded as he eased off the brakes.

They turned right at Madison and cruised another two blocks before they saw him, standing on a corner. Welsh pulled over. For several moments, they simply sat and stared.

“Halloween duty is always bad,” Doggett muttered, “but this?”

Welsh grabbed the radio. “Uh, Dispatch, we’ve got a 1096 at Madison and 44th.”

“Roger that,” Dispatch replied crisply. “Do you need backup?”

They looked at each other. “Yeah,” Welsh said. “Couldn’t hurt.”

“Let’s wait for backup,” Doggett suggested. “Maybe the rain will let up a little by then.” They sat silently for a moment and listened to it drum on the squad car roof. “Does he remind you of someone?”

Welsh looked hard at the man yelling on the corner. Around his feet were scattered at least a dozen fake weapons—swords, maces, guns, and hatchets—stolen from passers-by, several of whom had called 911 after their encounter with this raving lunatic. Broken glass reflecting the changing colors of the traffic lights testified to the amount he’d had to drink. The sound of his voice carried over the rain and through the car’s closed windows, but the words weren’t distinguishable.

“Not really,” Welsh said slowly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy standing in the rain ranting wearing a Viking hat with horns on it and shaking a plastic hammer.” He paused. “He’s wearing a Loki costume. Is that what you mean? How many screwballs have we picked up since the Chitauri War who thought they were Loki?”

“No, not that. I was thinking back, years ago, when I was a kid,” Doggett replied. “My dad and I used to walk around Midtown, and there was this guy called Moondog who always stood on a corner around here. He wore a hat like that and carried a spear.”

Welsh chuckled. “Before my time, old man. Did he yell like that?”

“Nah, he was quiet unless you talked to him. He was blind, so he waited for people to talk to him. Used to stand there in all kinds of weather, too.” 

Welsh scoffed. “It can’t be the same guy.”

“Of course not. He died years ago.” 

They sat in silence for another moment, as the rain reduced itself to a drizzle. Another squad car pulled up silently behind them.

Doggett sighed. “Okay, let’s go get him.”

As they opened the car doors they heard him yelling. “Thor, you betrayed me! Odin, beware of my revenge. Tony Stark, you owe me a drink! I was born to be a king!”

“Will we ever be done with this Asgard shit?” Welsh growled.


	4. Nuthouse

Bruce Banner was bent over his computer, deep in thought, trying to finish a scientific paper that was due at the end of the day, when Stark walked in. No knock, no apology, just Stark’s irrepressible energy filling up the room as the doorknob slammed into the wall with a crash and a patter of plaster motes hitting the floor. Keeping his eyes on the screen, Bruce flinched involuntarily. Maybe if he pretended Stark wasn’t there, he would go away.

“So, Green Man, something weird happened last night.” When Bruce remained unresponsive, Stark approached and spoke into his ear. “Hey, Banner, listen to me!” Since when had ignoring Tony ever worked?

“I’ve got to finish this,” Bruce said imploringly. “Just another half hour, just let me—”

“So the NYPD called me. Don’t you want to know why?”

“Nope.”

“Yes, you do. Down the street from the Tower at four o’clock in the morning, they arrested some guy wearing a Loki costume and waving a plastic hammer.”

Bruce sighed. “It was Halloween, Tony.”

“Yeah, but here’s the thing: this guy really looked like Loki.”

Bruce hit save and waited for the bar to load. He glanced up and met Tony’s eyes. “Oh, yeah? Loki escaped his prison and came back to earth so that he could stand raving outside the Tower in the rain with a plastic hammer and let the cops arrest him?”

Tony went on as if Bruce hadn’t spoken. “He’s been at Bellevue all morning, and he hasn’t stopped insisting that he actually is Loki.”

Bruce shook his head and repressed a smile. “I’m not that kind of doctor. And, anyway, he’s not the first nutjob to think he was Loki since the war.”

“Yeah, but this one is different.”

Bruce typed in a few more words, saved again, and closed the lid of his laptop. “Okay, fine. How’s this one different?”

“He knows things.”

“We have this thing now called the internet,” Bruce said brightly. “You can look things up on it.”

“No, I mean he knows things. Stuff that only Loki would know.”

“Like what?” Bruce was frustrated, but, as usual, he was starting to be interested in spite of himself.

“Like the details of the conversation I had with him just before he threw me out the window.”

“Hmm,” Bruce commented noncommittally, fingers itching to start typing again. “What exactly was he doing when he was picked up?”

“Waving a plastic version of Thor’s hammer and screaming at the sky as if Thor and Odin and I could hear him. He thought he might be in Hell.”

“That sounds really bad,” Bruce said.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Tony said eagerly. “So, you think he could be Loki?”

“No, it sounds really bad because I know you’re going to bug me until I go down to Bellevue and take a look at him.” Standing and tucking his laptop under his arm, Bruce prepared to find another place to work, preferably a room with a locking door. Maybe it would take Tony some time to pick the lock or find the right key, time that Bruce could use to finish this damn paper.

“Exactly,” Tony agreed. “Just come to Bellevue with me and take a look. It won’t take any time at all, and then you can go back to working on your—”

“Let me tell you exactly why I’m not going to do that,” Bruce said firmly. Tony’s body was blocking the doorway, but Bruce figured he could slip past somehow because Tony would be afraid to take the risk of body-blocking him. Bruce had never hulked out in the Tower, but there had been some close calls. “First, because I’m busy. Second, because I’m really busy. And third, because my name would go on the poor guy’s file, and I’d have other docs calling me up for opinions, and I’d feel obliged to get involved and he’d become my patient. And I’m really not that kind of doctor.”

Tony mimed counting on his fingers. “Uh, that’s actually seven reasons,” he said obnoxiously.

Bruce took advantage of Tony’s momentary inattention and eased past him into the hall. “Don’t follow me,” he said warningly. But Tony did.

***

In the elevator mirror Tony looked at himself and whistled admiringly. “Wow, I always thought the guys in the white coats would come for me, and now I are one.”

“Shut up, ‘Dr. Smith.’ I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Bruce muttered irritably. “I could lose my license.” His wet umbrella was steadily dripping on the floor because he had refused to leave it in the lobby. He shook it, and a few drops soaked into his pants. If this didn’t go well, they might have to make a quick getaway, and he didn’t want to leave his umbrella.

“Aw, cheer up, Dr. Banner,” Tony said jauntily. “We’ll just take a look and then we’ll leave. No one will ever know.”

“You don’t really think it’s him, do you?” Bruce stopped to face him as the elevator doors swished open. “Damn it, Tony, then why did you get me involved in—”

Tony pushed past him into the hall. “I have to make sure.” His voice had lost its archness. Glancing at his face, Bruce saw that he was serious. Surrendering, he followed silently in Tony’s wake.

A few other doctors filed into the observation booth with them, waiting for the group therapy session to begin. Bruce nodded a vague greeting to his colleagues and then chose seats as far removed from them as possible.

The group leader was a professional-looking woman in her forties who looked friendly and yet maintained a slight distance in her manner. Bruce admired her already. He could never do that kind of work.

The six patients filed in, each exhibiting a different emotion about the prospect of attending this group. Some walked in eagerly, ready to share; others looked down, dragging their feet, their faces sullen or fearful. And then there was Loki.

He was flanked by two attendants, and, shockingly, he wore a strait jacket, his arms hugging himself and the ends of the long sleeves buckled around his back. His hair was long and unkempt, so it was difficult to see his face. 

“See?” Tony muttered. “Wouldn’t you swear it was him?” 

“It can’t be him,” Bruce said firmly. “Wouldn’t he just magic himself out of that jacket like he did out of the cage on the helicarrier?”

Tony shrugged “Good point, but I’m not going on logic here. This is a gut feeling moment.” 

“You and your damn gut feeling are making me miss my deadline,” Bruce grumbled irritably.

Just then, the group facilitator started things off by introducing herself as Dr. Clemens.

“Now,” she said, smiling around the circle, “for those of you who haven’t attended before, there are a few simple rules. Don’t interrupt. Don’t use sarcasm. And only make constructive comments on what others say. Does everyone understand?”

There were a few nods and murmurs. Loki didn’t move or speak. Smiling her approval, Dr. Clemens asked the participants to go around the circle and introduce themselves.

“I’m Jeff, and if I keep making progress, Dr. Archer says I can go home in a week.” Mumbled congratulations greeted this remark. Dan and Cecile introduced themselves quietly with different degrees of sullenness and disinterest. Janice shook her head, looking at the floor. The doctor nodded to the next participant.

“I’m Anne, and I hear voices, but I know they aren’t real,” confided a petite woman with dark red hair and very pale skin.

“Of course they’re real,” drawled an urbane voice. “You should do whatever they tell you to do, or they’ll get angry.” Anne’s face fell. Her mouth gaped open. Bruce didn’t realize he had gasped until Tony stirred at his side.

“You see?” Tony whispered.

“I don’t see anything,” Bruce said stubbornly. “Just because he’s an asshole doesn’t mean he’s Loki.”

“Loki,” Dr. Clemens admonished, “that is exactly what I asked you not to do. No negative comments, and no sarcasm.”

“Which was that?” Loki murmured archly, still looking at the floor. “Was it negativity or sarcasm?”

“We’ll have no more of either from you,” Dr. Clemens said crisply. “Can you introduce yourself, please?”

“I thought you just did,” he said nastily. As he raised his head, his hair fell back, revealing a sharky grin. Bruce restrained himself from gasping again. It can’t be Loki, he thought like a mantra, it can’t fucking be Loki. 

Loki laughed. “Oh, very well. I am Loki, of Asgard, and I am surer than I have ever been of anything that I am trapped in Hel’s realm.”

“You don’t sound like you’re from Queens,” Dan remarked skeptically.

“Astoria’s in Queens, not Asgard, you dope,” Cecile snapped.

“Settle down, please, everyone,” Dr. Clemens said sharply.

Bruce felt Tony’s elbow nudge his ribcage. “I told you this would be better than TV.”

“I don’t watch TV,” Bruce said distractedly. “It’s too exciting.”

“Oh, pal,” Stark scoffed, “you lead a boring life.”

“Shut up, Tony,” Bruce said, trying to keep his voice low. His heart started beating faster. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Stark leaned in confidentially. “Come on, man, it’s no fun if you don’t talk,” he whispered. “It’s like Mystery Science Theater 2000. Ten bucks says he falls off the chair. Want to bet whether he falls left or right?”

“Shut up,” Banner said again, staring hard through the glass.

“Why? What’s got into you?”

“I think it might be Loki,” Bruce whispered.

“See? What did I say? You never listen to me.” 

The chastened group continued its recitation of complaints and goals and future plans as Bruce and Tony fell silent.

“My father used to tell me I was stupid,” Dan was saying, “and so I—” 

Without warning, Loki jerked his head back and chuckled disconcertingly. “Your father thought you were stupid?” 

“That’s right,” Dan replied eagerly. “Did you have the same problem with your father?”

“My father knows full well I am not stupid,” Loki growled, “but your father was correct about you.”

Dr. Clemens turned a stern eye on him. “Loki, you said you were ready to join the group. In fact, you said if I let you come, you’d even tell us your real name. Instead, you’ve made two negative, untrue comments that have hurt people’s feelings. Are you ready to apologize and tell us your real name? We can’t keep calling you ‘Loki.’”

“When I said I would tell you my real name, I lied,” Loki explained patiently. “But when I told you my name was Loki, I was telling the truth.” 

“It’s him,” Tony whispered insistently in Bruce’s ear.

“Wait a second.” After scribbling something on a piece of paper, Bruce called an attendant over and handed it to him with a murmured explanation. The young man went into the room and gave it to Dr. Clemens, who read it.

“Loki,” she said, “I was just asked to inform you that Dr. Banner has joined your medical support team. You are very lucky to have him,” she added dutifully.

Smirking, Loki opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to choke on his first words as some realization hit him.

“Wait for it,” Bruce murmured.

“Do you mean Dr. Bruce Banner?” Loki asked casually.

“Yes, indeed,” Dr. Clemens confirmed cheerfully. “He’s here now, in the observation booth.”

“That’s all this place lacked, the Monster.” Loki’s eyes had become a little wild. He squirmed in the strait jacket, trying to free his arms.

Lightning flashed at the barred windows as a rumble of thunder shook the building.

“No, not Thor too, not here!” Loki’s face had become a mask of fear. Struggling, he looked around wildly. “Let me out of this thing,” he cried. “I have to get out of here. I see it now. They’re coming to kill me!” Taking his arms, the attendants started to drag him out. 

Bruce and Tony looked at each other, stunned. “What are we going to do?” Tony asked rhetorically.

“We could let him rot here,” Bruce whispered. “He doesn’t seem to have his powers.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Tony hissed back, “but why is he here? With what he knows, he could do a lot of damage if someone got hold of him. We have to take him to the Tower.”

“How the hell are we going to do that?” Bruce felt his blood pressure rising dangerously. At the other end of the room, a few people turned to stare, attracted by their furious whispers. “Let’s go,” he said, fishing the wet umbrella out from under his chair and rising. “We can talk about it in private.”

An older man in a suit and tie followed them out into the hall. Before they could move past him, he tapped Bruce on the shoulder and peered myopically at his nametag. “Dr. Banner, I’m Dr. Jacks,” he said, “and I’ve been working with this ‘Loki’ since he was brought in last night. An interesting case. Persecutory delusional disorder, in my opinion. From what you’ve seen so far, if I might presume to ask, what’s your diagnosis, doctor?”

“Fear of lightning, Dr. Jacks,” Bruce said seriously, moving past as the man gaped after him. “Definitely astraphobia.”


	5. Friends and Enemies

“Craig, what are you doing? Mr. Stark is waiting for you in the conference room.” Sally, the office manager, shook her head and gave Craig a disapproving look.

Craig shifted nervously from one foot to the other and looked her in the eye. “Come on, Sal,” he said. “Why would Tony Stark come here to see me?”

She shrugged. “How would I know?” Her keyboard started clacking again as she turned back to her work. 

“Who put you up to this?” he asked bluntly. “Was it Luke?”

“Just go in there,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Listen, make sure to turn off the intercom,” she added confidentially, taking pity on him. “Luke is dying to know why Stark came to see you.”

Cautiously, Craig opened the conference room door and eased his head around the corner. He thought at first that the room was empty, until he saw a small man wearing a dark suit facing the panoramic view of the city. His dark hair was artfully mussed, his expensive suit jacket rucked up around the hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets. With a shock, Craig realized two things: first, that this was indeed Tony Stark, and, second, that he was staring at Stark Tower, still covered with scaffolding after the recent battle. 

At the sound of the door, Stark swung around. They stared, each with a look of surprise on his face. Craig realized he towered over the man.

Craig recovered first. “Mr. Stark,” he said, “let me just say that I’m honored by this visit, though I’m not sure why—”

Stark spoke over his hesitant words. “You look like Thor.”

“Excuse me?”

“You look like Thor,” Stark repeated. “Did you dress up like him for Halloween?”

At that moment, Craig remembered to hit the “off” switch on the intercom. Even that brief bit of suggestive conversation was going to cost him.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked defensively.

Stark swaggered toward him, one hand out of its pocket, its index finger pointing at Craig accusingly. “You were seen,” he said firmly.

Craig’s knees gave way, and he plopped down heavily in a chair. “Who saw me? Was it Luke? I thought his Iron Man costume was way too good. Did he get it from you? Was he spying on me?”

“Young man,” Stark said, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. “You were seen in an Uber dropping off a man dressed as Loki in front of Stark Tower. What did you think you were seen doing?”

“Uh, nothing. That is, I—” Craig stammered.

“You know what? I don’t care what it was. Just tell me about that Loki guy. Put in as much detail as you remember.” He sat in the next chair. Craig could feel the heat of Stark’s body, the restless energy pouring off him in waves.

Craig’s heart beat faster. Remembering every detail wasn’t a problem, since he hadn’t stopped going over that night in his head since it had happened. Not letting it all come bursting out of his mouth—that was the problem. “Yeah, okay,” he started cautiously. “He came up to us in the street. He seemed confused, somehow, or drunk. He was a kick-ass cosplayer, and he never—”

“Wait a sec. A kick-ass what?”

“Cosplayer. Someone who dresses up as characters or famous people and then role-plays—I mean, acts like them. Sometimes they act out scenarios, sometimes they just walk around and spontaneously act like the character.” 

“Go on.” Stark had put one hand up to his face, resting his elbow on the table.

“Anyway, this guy—Loki—he came up to us, because we were dressed as the Avengers. He came up to me, actually, because I was Thor, and he kept asking if we were in Hell.” He paused a moment, thinking of it. “And the weird thing was, he didn’t break character once the whole night.”

“You mean, you never talked about where you got your costumes, or your real lives? He never said what his name was?”

Craig shook his head. “Like I said, he just talked like Loki the whole time, or what I imagine Loki talks like. He talked about my plastic hammer like it was real. He didn’t even seem to know what Halloween was.” Belatedly, a bit of caution kicked in. “Did he do something bad? Because I swear I didn’t know him before that night and I haven’t seen him since I dropped him off with the hammer and a bottle of booze.”

“He acted crazy and got himself taken to Bellevue,” Stark said grimly. “Now, why don’t you start from the beginning and tell me the whole story? Don’t leave anything out.”

***

As the cell door swung open, Tony walked in and stopped, leaning against the wall to examine at his leisure the wreck on the bed. The man was thin, his dark hair mussed and knotted. The restraints around his wrists and ankles forced him to remain flat on the bed, though the head was slightly raised, allowing him to look around. But Loki, if it was he, lay there with his head to one side, eyes open and glassy, but he didn’t even move to see who had entered. Stark realized he must be drugged.

“Well,” Tony couldn’t resist saying, “how the mighty have fallen.”

“Tony Stark,” Loki said hoarsely, glancing his way. “I wondered when you would come.”

“You look like shit,” Tony said, enjoying the sight of his former foe in such distress. Even as the Avengers were fighting Loki, Tony had grudgingly thought him a handsome devil, strutting around in his leathers like he was king of the world, but right at this moment, Loki looked anything but handsome. Stark almost missed the swagger of Loki’s charismatic presence, the gleam of danger in his eye. Almost.

“Not surprising.” Loki’s voice was low and raspy. “The gods made mortals from their shit, and I am mortal now.”

“Why do I feel as if I’ve just been insulted?” Stark asked wryly.

Loki turned his face back to the side. “Perhaps because you have been.”

“So, Odin threw you out? I thought he sentenced you to jail for a thousand years. And you deserved it.” 

“I thought he’d execute me, and in a way he has, sending me to Midgard, where my life will end in the blink of an eye.”

Tony had no good comeback for that unexpectedly depressing remark. “Well, in that case, I have good news.”

“Let me guess, you’re going to kill me,” Loki said acidly. “The nurses will probably help you.”

“Nope, guess again.”

“I thought this couldn’t get any worse, being forced to lie here, but being forced to lie here and listen to you prattling away….” Loki tugged hard on his restraints, rattling the bed.

“I’m bringing you to Stark Tower.”

Loki’s eyes opened wide. “You can’t.”

Stark scoffed. “Who’s going to stop me? You? You’re crazy, remember?”

“I thought people had ‘rights’ in your precious America,” Loki said, finally looking straight at him.

“Rights? You? I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Hypocrite,” Loki said darkly.

“Until tomorrow,” Stark said, smirking and waving theatrically as he turned toward the door. “I’ll be back for you. Don’t you go away, now.” 

* * * 

Even in the middle of the night, Loki’s room was never dark or quiet. From down the hall, through the half-open door, light shone on his face; loud voices and moans disturbed his sleep. Sometimes the laughter from the nurse’s station made him want to throttle them all. Because he was weak, because he could not break his restraints no matter how hard he tried, they did not even fear him enough to lock the door. When his power was restored, he fantasized, he would raze this place to the ground, flinging fire through the windows and destroying the survivors, one by one, as they ran screaming away.

Just before dawn, he must have dozed off, so that when Brad, the morning nurse, came in with a tray, the sound jerked him awake.

“Morning,” Brad said. “Here’s your breakfast. So, I have an idea for this morning—medicine first, and then I’ll take off the restraints so you can eat.”

“Food first,” Loki said imperiously.

“Nope,” Brad retorted calmly. “We’re not having a repeat of yesterday. I’m not calling four guys to wrestle you back into bed again. You’re going to swallow these pills first or I’ll walk this tray right out of here. Now, what’ll it be? Pills?”

Loki nodded curtly. He was too hungry to forego breakfast, awful as it was. He had learned that his mortal body grew even weaker when he didn’t eat. Brad tipped the pills into his mouth from a tiny paper cup and then fed him enough water to wash them down his throat. Yet another humiliation. Too many to itemize now, all going on Odin’s account.

“Good,” Brad said, undoing the restraint on Loki’s right arm and handing him a plastic spoon. “Now, eat, while I watch you. And I almost forgot. Your lawyer’s here.”

Loki stopped with a bite halfway to his mouth. “My what?”

“Your lawyer. I guess he starts work early—it’s not even quite 6:00. Do you want to see him or not?”

“Yes.” He had no clue what that meant, but why not? He had given up hoping that anyone was going to help him get out of here, but perhaps he’d get some amusement out of it.

Once Loki had finished, Brad carefully reattached the restraint and left with the breakfast dishes. Minutes passed, and the meds took hold. Loki dozed off in spite of himself.

“Loki?” came a low whisper. “Wake up.”

He startled awake, a nightmare about Asgard still behind his eyes. Was that Thor, come to fetch him home? “Brother,” he cried in a broken voice.

“Shhhh, not so loud. It’s me, Craig.”

Craig—not-Thor from fucking Halloween. The one who had adored him for a night and then dropped him at Stark Tower, where he had done the senseless thing that had landed him in this room.

“Why are you here?” Loki asked bitterly. “Are you come to gloat, too?”

“Listen,” Craig said earnestly, “Tony Stark came to see me yesterday. The Avengers are planning to take you to Stark Tower and lock you up.”

Loki felt his blood run cold. Another symptom of this cursed disease of humanity—being afraid of everything that could end his life. “Lock me up…?” he asked tentatively.

“Once they get you in there, you’ll never be free. They’ll keep you there forever. Stark told me they were preparing a prison cell in the Tower basement.”

Loki’s brain seemed sluggish, his tongue dull, because of the pills they had been forcing down his throat. The words came out slowly. “Stark also told me that he would take me to the Tower tomorrow.” He thought for a moment. “Today. But he didn’t mention a prison cell.”

“I have to get you out of here now.” Craig was leaning in, his voice so soft it was barely audible.

“Yes,” Loki said, “let me go. I will—”

“No, listen to me, you can’t just walk out of here. They’ll catch you in a minute.”

“We will fight them,” Loki said, struggling to rise.

“I’m not fighting anyone,” Craig said firmly, “and neither are you. I have a plan. But you have to promise to do what I say, or it isn’t going to work. Do you think you can act normal for a few minutes, man? If something goes wrong—if the hospital contacts my law firm and my boss finds out I’m using their name for this, I’ll get fired.”

“What is a law firm?” Loki asked, and at Craig’s impatient sound, he went on. “I have had enough of this place. Tell me your plan, and I will go along with it, as long as it’s not ‘Get Help.’”


	6. Tricksters

It went more easily that Craig could have imagined. Once he had explained to Loki what he needed to do, Loki immediately began acting as sheepish and humble as a guy would if he had been slipped a roofie during a wild Halloween party and unexpectedly found himself standing on a street corner in the rain with a pile of plastic weapons he had stolen from passers-by. Luckily, none of those Thors and samurai and Nightmares on Elm Street had pressed charges about the thefts of their fake sidearms.

The discharge doctor had the option to cut short the typical 96-hour holding period if he felt that the person was no longer a danger to himself or others. And, of course, the hospital always needed the extra bed. It helped that Loki had cooperated during breakfast that morning. And the presence of a lawyer always made the administration nervous.

The one difficulty came when Craig had to convince Loki to put on the clothing he had brought: boxer shorts, black jeans, and an oversized black sweatshirt that he’d picked up off a discount table, emblazoned with a pirated San Francisco Giants logo.

“You can’t wear your costume,” he’d hissed urgently through clenched teeth. “Damn it, Loki, that will undo everything we’ve done!”

“It’s armor, not a costume,” Loki had insisted haughtily. “This clothing is inferior.” He rubbed the fabric between thumb and forefinger, giving it a look of disgust.

“The only way we’ll get you out of here is if they think you’ve given up the idea that you’re Loki.”

“But I am—”

“I know that!” Craig exploded in a hoarse whisper. “I know you’re Loki, I believe it, okay? But they don’t. The last time they saw you, you were a god, and now you’re mortal. You can’t fight them right now.”

“You believe me?” Loki said, mollified.

“I do. Totally. I don’t understand it, but I believe you. So, come on, work with me here,” he coaxed. “I thought you were the god of lies. You can do this.”

Loki finally submitted to dress and act like a mortal, even telling Dr. Jacks—who was at first reluctant to walk back his diagnosis of persecutory delusional disorder—that his name was actually Donald Blake, but—so sorry—all his i.d. had been stolen by the guy who’d drugged him. More small humiliations to be laid at Odin’s doorstep.

Craig perjured himself by swearing in writing that Mr. Blake was a longstanding and distinguished client, very well known to him. And out they went into the cold, drizzly New York streets.

About a block away from the hospital, Loki stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. “What now?” he muttered, more to himself than to Craig. Without his powers, he felt vulnerable in this world, more exposed to danger than he had been since childhood. He’d had enough trouble finding his place in Asgard. Without his powers, who was he in this realm?

“Now we go to my apartment, and you stay there and lie low while I go to work,” Craig said firmly, as if expecting an argument.

Still drowsy from the pills he’d had before breakfast, demoralized and strung out by two days of captivity, anti-psychotic drugs, and lack of sleep, Loki didn’t bother to challenge Craig. Lying low for a few hours sounded like a good idea.

* * *

At 10:15 a.m., Tony arrived at Bellevue armed with an attorney, four burly guys, and a full ream of papers showing that Loki should be surrendered to his custody.

The harried young woman at the desk cast a horrified glance at the stack of paperwork, but when she heard the name of the patient they were after, she heaved a sigh of relief.

“That patient is no longer with us,” she said smugly, pushing the paper back at Tony’s lawyer.

Tony looked flummoxed. “What, he died? How did that happen?”

She shook her head and smiled. “He didn’t die, he was released.”

“What? I mean, how...?” At this point, hearing Tony’s voice rise, the lawyer signaled to let him do the talking. A supervisor was summoned, who, due to patient privacy laws, was unable to tell them anything besides the mere fact that Loki had been released onto the streets of New York hours before.

Standing on the sidewalk outside the main entrance, Tony looked hopelessly up and down the street. Now what the hell was he going to do? And where was Loki?

He stood there, forcing himself to think. It was a good bet that Craig, the kid who looked so much like Thor, was mixed up in it somehow. He sent everyone else back to the Tower and set off for Dunham & Greene, Craig’s law firm.


	7. Father and Sons

Thor went down on one knee before Odin’s throne.

“Rise, my son,” Odin said kindly. “What troubles you?”

“Forgive me, Father,” Thor started hesitantly, “but I think about my brother, alone in exile on Midgard without his powers, and I wonder what will become of him.”

Odin laughed briefly. “And yet, I remember that Loki was not so kind when I exiled you.”

“It’s true,” Thor said, “but he had just learned the truth of his parentage, and he was angry and jealous. Part of that was my fault. When we were young, I did not often give him his due. Sif and the Warriors Three ridiculed him and I did not defend him. Of course he hated me.”

“You have a kind heart, Thor.” Odin looked upon him fondly.

“I didn’t always,” Thor retorted. “I had to learn that by being exiled. And losing my brother once, thinking him dead, made me remember how much a part of me he was.” Thor dropped his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “What will happen to him, Father? Will you ever let him return?”

“That depends entirely on him,” Odin said, a little sternly. “He must perform an act of heroism, of self-sacrifice, as you did. That will break the spell and return him to himself.”

Thor’s face fell. “Self-sacrifice?” he asked. “Loki?”

“Yes,” Odin said firmly. “It must be that way.”

“Father,” Thor asked beseechingly, “if I could travel to Midgard and give Loki some advice, perhaps...”

“No,” Odin said. “I forbid it. Your brother must make his own way, as you did.”

That very evening, Thor began to think of ways to get to Midgard without his father’s knowledge.


	8. An Unexpected Pleasure

After a 15-minute wait in the conference room, Tony was ready to go find the kid and strangle him at his desk.

Just then, Craig entered, his face carefully blank, and turned off the intercom on the wall. Last time, Tony had taken him off-guard. This time he was ready.

“Interesting,” Tony said, smirking, “do you have something to hide?” He didn’t feel as if he had the upper hand but his usual tactic was to act as if he did regardless.

“Like what?” Craig scoffed. “I just don’t want to be listened to. Do you? This is a law office. Everything you say can be used against you.”

Tony let it pass. “So, what did you do with him?”

Craig let a beat go by before crooking a quizzical eyebrow. “Sorry, not sure I’m following. With who?” 

The kid was smooth, Tony had to admit. He was going to go far in his profession. “You know who.”

“The dude I shared my Uber with? He’s at Bellevue, isn’t he?”

“Not anymore.”

Craig shook his head. “Listen, Mr. Stark, this is getting a little strange. You talked about keeping that poor guy prisoner at Stark Tower. If I thought you really did that, I’d have to report you to the police, you know.”

Tony gave up all pretense at having the upper hand. “Where is he? You have one more chance to tell me.”

“Is that a threat?” Craig looked more interested than scared.

Tony realized he had miscalculated. Threats were bread and butter to a New York lawyer. He held his hands out disarmingly. “No, no, of course not. I just want to find Loki and keep him from hurting anyone. Remember what he did to New York last time?”

“Of course I remember,” Craig wasn’t pacing and he had no tics, but he was sweating a little too much around the temples and made no move to wipe it off. “But, look, Mr. Stark,” he continued reasonably, “dressing up like Loki on Halloween doesn’t make him Loki. If Loki were actually here, wouldn’t he bring down a cyborg army on us or attack your Tower? Now, if you’re telling me he disappeared from Bellevue, I might start believing that he had superpowers.” He paused and looked worried. “Is that what happened?”

Tony had heard enough of this bullshit. God, he hated lawyers. He stood, and he must have looked frustrated, because Craig stepped back towards the door as if trying to get out of his way.

“Wherever he is, I’ll find him,” Tony said with conviction. Swiftly, he moved around Craig and pulled open the door. And, at that moment, glancing back, he saw a single twitch of the man’s left eyelid and knew that he was right.

* * *

It wasn’t as easy to get Craig’s home address as Tony had imagined. The first address JARVIS found turned out to be an empty apartment on the Lower East Side, and it wasn’t in the greatest neighborhood, either. Apparently, Craig had moved up in the world, and he’d only vacated this place the day before. None of his old neighbors seemed to know exactly where he had gone.

So Tony had returned to Dunham & Greene, and asked for a meeting with Luke, who he figured must be Craig’s rival. 

As Tony watched Luke walk slowly into the conference room, he knew he was up against a whole new level of lawyer. Luke was as young as Craig, but his face was a blank wall. Tony felt a chill up his spine, knowing a second before he shook Luke’s outstretched hand just how chilly and damp it would be. This guy was a hard case. Dammit, Tony really hated lawyers.

“So, I met your friend Craig,” Tony started. He took a breath and went ahead with his planned damn-the-torpedoes approach. “Do you have any idea what he’s up to?” 

“Colleague,” Luke said briefly with no particular inflection. With a sinking heart, Tony realized that Luke wasn’t going to commit to anything until he knew where Tony stood.

“Yeah, colleague,” Tony echoed. “And, you see—can I speak to you man-to-man, Luke?—the thing is, I think he’s getting mixed up in something that could blow up in his face, so I need to get his address. The Avengers need his address.” Tony heard the lameness of his own line of bullshit. This iceman was unnerving him, something that didn’t happen much anymore.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Luke’s voice was completely deadpan. Tony smelled danger and prepared to step into it. 

“Because I don’t want him to know. Look, you’d be helping him. I just want to keep the guy out of trouble.”

“Why do you think I want to help him?” Luke asked coolly.

With a shock, Tony realized that Luke was jealous of Tony’s interest in Craig. Sometimes he forgot about his own celebrity power. That must be Luke’s number. Tony prepared to take control of the encounter.

“Listen, kid,” he started, “I’d like to know Craig’s address, and I don’t want him to know I have it. But if you don’t want to help me—if you don’t want to, let’s say, meet the Avengers?—then I’ll find another way.”

“I’ll help you,” Luke said unexpectedly. 

“You’ll… Yeah, okay, good. You’ll be helping the Avengers, you know. And we’ll be grateful. We could do a photo op, maybe with—”

“I don’t want to meet the Avengers,” Luke said flatly.

Tony’s voice quit on him while his lips were still moving. “You don’t—what?”

“Five hundred.” Luke said, his eyes glowing with something that could have been greed.

“Five hundred?” Tony echoed tentatively, taken off guard. He had completely misread this guy. 

“Cash.”

Tony stared for a moment. Easier than he thought it would be, and suspiciously cheap, too. If he had thought for a moment that Luke would take money, he would have been in it for a few thousand by now. He dug in his pocket and peeled five hundreds off the roll he found there.

With a gold fountain pen pulled from his jacket pocket, Luke wrote the address on a post-it pad that was lying on the table and handed it over. “Maybe you can answer a question for me,” he said.

“All, right,” Tony said. “If I can.” This was unexpected. Tony started wondering if he was losing his touch.

“Who was that guy dressed like Loki that Craig was with on Halloween night?” Luke asked, his voice hollow and dead, and Tony suddenly wasn’t sure whether Luke really was cool as a cucumber or if he was hiding something else, some passion or purpose that was burning unseen inside him. “Craig went off alone with him for most of the night.”

“Sorry, man, I have no idea,” Tony lied, starting out the conference room door. He was no longer sure that he had been at all in control of this encounter.

***

Craig’s new place was in a modern building by the river, the kind inhabited by workaholic single professionals who wanted a classy place to bring a date, but didn’t care about having lots of room or cooking anything besides coffee and the occasional microwaved takeout. The locks were high-tech, but Tony had never met a lock he couldn’t pick. The biggest shortcoming of the device he had invented to open the latest keyless locks was that it sometimes required a full four or five minutes to find the right code. Luckily, in the middle of the day, the 10th floor hall was deserted.

The click was subtle. Tony eased the door open, not knowing what he would find inside. At that moment he wondered why he had come alone. Maybe Loki wasn’t a supervillain anymore, but he was still a big guy who looked to be in pretty fair shape. Of course, Tony was wearing his watch. In a moment, he could produce an iron glove that would take down any unpowered human being he’d ever tangled with.

Inside, the living room was silent and dim, with sheer curtains drawn against the glare of the late afternoon river view. Tony closed the door carefully behind him, wincing when the catch made a soft snap. He froze, listening. From his vantage point he could see the kitchenette, squeezed into one wall of the tiny living room-dining room. A short hall presumably led to the bedroom and bathroom. He took a few steps forward, his movements muffled by the thick-pile carpet, and listened again. And then he heard it—the sound of regular breathing, as if someone slept in the other room.

Ten quick steps led him to the bedroom door. As he had hoped, Loki was there.

Tony stood paralyzed, knowing that he had to take action. Any second now, he would retrace his steps and send the message that would bring the four-guy extraction team back with the van. Without attracting undue attention, they would bundle Loki out of this place, hurrying him across town and into the Tower, with no one the wiser. Problem was, at that moment, Tony couldn’t move a muscle. He could hardly even think. He could only feast his eyes.

Loki lay in bed, deep asleep, the covers pushed down to his hips, his raven hair spread out luxuriously on the pillow. Why had Tony never noticed before how ethereally beautiful he was? Slender, wiry, just buff enough, his pale, perfect skin hairless, even on his chest and belly. With his face relaxed in sleep, lips parted slightly, he looked innocent, at peace. Tony wanted nothing more than to reach out and caress his cheek, to run his hands down the perfect, alabaster sculpture of his shoulders and chest, to throw the covers back and appreciate the rest of him.

Tony must have made a sound, because Loki’s eyes opened suddenly. For a few long seconds they stared at each other. Loki looked startled at first, but as he gazed deeper and deeper into Tony’s eyes, his lips quirked up into a smile. He yawned and stretched languorously. 

“Ah, Stark,” he said in that throaty tenor voice, “you found me.”

Tony tried to speak, but his words came out a croak. He swallowed hard. “You have to come with me,” he said as steadily as he could. “Don’t try to escape.”

Loki chuckled softly. “We’re alone,” he said. “What are you so afraid of? What do you think I’ll do?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Tony said, but he wasn’t so sure it was true. He hadn’t been this close to Loki since he’d made that remark about “performance issues” and found himself on the wrong side of a plate-glass window. Even without powers, Loki looked scarcely less formidable now.

“Then why are you trembling?” Loki asked. Slowly, knowing Tony’s eyes were on him, he tossed back the covers and stood. “See?” he said, holding out his open hands, “you don’t need to fear me. I’m unarmed. I can’t use my magic anymore, or reach my daggers. But perhaps,” he went on, stepping slowly forward, grinning all the time, “you’d like to see for yourself. Perhaps you’d like to search me.”

Loki was naked. Utterly, gloriously nude. And he was perfect, with his powerful shoulders and slim waist, his cock thickening and lifting as he watched Tony watching him. His cock was at the same level as Tony’s hands, and Loki was almost there, mere inches from being in reach. Tony balled up his fists as if he could squeeze away the desire to take that cock into his hand.

“You want me,” Loki whispered. “You’ve always wanted me.” 

Tony had lost control of his face. If he’d been able to think, he would have known that he was gaping like a fool, that his breath was coming in small, shallow gasps. His hands shook so hard that he couldn’t have activated his glove if he’d wanted to. 

“I’ve got to bring you back to the Tower and lock you up,” he said desperately, as if by saying it reasonably he could convince himself.

Loki clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Surely you can think of something better to do with me than that,” he said, amused. 

He was so close now that Tony could feel the warmth of Loki’s flesh. His tongue longed to taste, and his hands to stroke and grab and possess.

Loki cupped Tony’s face between his palms and kissed him, long and deeply. Tony’s hands found Loki’s waist, then his ass. Loki surged forward involuntarily when Tony grabbed his cock. It lay in his hand, hot and heavy and slick.

“To hell with it,” Tony said, and those were the last coherent words he spoke for an hour.

Loki must have undressed him efficiently, because it seemed like only a minute or two before he found himself lying on the bed with Loki’s skin up against his own, kissing him back, running his hands through the silken hair and over every inch of velvet skin he could reach. 

Loki broke their kiss and smiled into his face. “If it’s all the same to you,” he purred, “I’d like to have that drink now.” Tony was having trouble processing language, and so it took him a moment to understand the joke when Loki slid down and took Tony’s cock into his mouth.

Oh, god, does that mean he’s going to—

Loki was eating him alive, and it was good, so good, but the best thing was the way Loki seemed to be enjoying it so much, licking and lapping and nibbling at Tony’s cock like it was an ice cream cone or something, like it tasted really good. 

And Loki kept glancing at him, meeting his eyes, as if to say, “This is me, doing you. This isn’t just sex, this is personal.”

Tony started to peak, and, honestly, at that moment, it almost seemed plausible that he’d always wanted Loki, and Loki him, that if Loki had thrown him down on the floor instead of out the window on that fateful day, there wouldn’t have been any battle.

As Tony came, Loki swallowed and then kissed him with that semen-laced mouth, sharing the taste in a way that was so intimate, so lewd, that Tony started getting hard again.

There were lubricated condoms in a basket on the bedside table. Loki grabbed one and put it into Tony’s hand. “Get me ready,” he ordered, and it blew Tony’s mind that Loki even knew what a condom was for, until he remembered Craig. 

Jesus. They must have had sex on Halloween. No wonder Craig hadn’t seemed too receptive to Tony’s idea of imprisoning Loki at Stark Tower. No wonder Luke hadn’t known where they’d gone.

Tony unrolled the condom over Loki’s cock, adding some lube from the tube of K-Y he spotted on the table. He hadn’t done this in enough years that getting Loki’s thick dick in there was going to be a struggle. He felt a brief stab of fear. What if Loki tried to shove in without getting him ready, as revenge for everything he’d suffered at the Avengers’ hands? Loki was in control here. Without his suit, Tony couldn’t hope to win in an equal fight with a guy of Loki’s size and experience. Tony’s Starkphone was in his jacket pocket, which was somewhere on the floor. His watch had come off at some point and he had no idea where it had ended up.

Lifting Tony’s legs, Loki took some lube into his hand and pushed a couple of fingers slowly inside, taking care to watch Tony’s face. “You’re tight,” he remarked with a wicked smile. “But, don’t worry,” he continued softly, “I’m not going to hurt you. We have time.” And, somehow, stupid as it seemed, Tony believed him. 

In fact, Loki didn’t seem to be in any rush. He kept up a stream of comforting words, accompanied by caresses and kisses. Tony wasn’t generally a mushy sort of guy, but the way Loki was touching him kept him aroused and made him crave what was coming. Loki didn’t just know how to persuade with words, but with his body, and, even knowing what a liar Loki could be, Tony was taken in all the same.

But this time Loki’s promises were no lie. When he was ready, he slipped inside like silk, and Tony found himself, legs in the air, being competently and deliciously fucked by the guy who had brought the Chitauri down on New York. How had this happened? He’d arrived here intending to kidnap Loki and throw him in the Tower’s high-tech dungeon, and had ended with Loki’s dick as far up inside him as it could go. What was wrong with this picture? If consequences were coming, Tony’s reptile brain didn’t see them, and that’s the part that was in control now.

When he thought about it later, Tony had to give Loki credit. He could have gloated; he could have smirked, and maybe he did later, but right now he seemed as involved in and moved by this as Tony was. He met Tony’s eyes, smiled into his face, whispered his name. It seemed as if Tony was the center of Loki’s universe for the moments their bodies were joined.

This was great sex, amazing sex, better than any other time he’d been with a guy, which, admittedly, had been few and far between. The way Loki moved deep inside him made him crazy with lust, until finally Tony threw pride to the winds and groaned, “Harder, fuck me harder.” As Loki complied, he might have gloated then, but Tony was so overcome he wouldn’t have seen it anyway.

Loki came after he did, and Tony realized he had been waiting, doing everything he could to make it good for Tony before taking his own pleasure. And when they were done, the aftershocks still rioting through their bodies, Loki took Tony into his arms and lay back, sighing, as if it had been the greatest thing in the world.

As his senses slowly returned to him, Tony had to admit that reality had just thrown him one hell of a curveball. Loki, a guy he thought of as a malevolent alien, an enemy to be vanquished, had suddenly shown him a more complex side. Besides not showing Tony any ill will for his recent defeat, he had even been an attentive and considerate lover. 

It was easy to forget that Loki was royalty, a prince, second heir to a fabulous, ancient throne, a being who had lived for 1000 years. It was as if the scion of a past civilization—an Egyptian pharaoh or an Abyssinian emperor—had suddenly traveled to the present day and taken Tony to bed. Imagine having six or seven hundred years of sexual experience. Tony thought about that for a moment. Loki had probably spent half a millennium having anyone he desired. And yet Loki had taken care not to hurt him, paying attention to his every need. Noblesse oblige. What had happened to the guy who had told Nick Fury that a boot didn’t care about the ants it crushed?

A faint buzz came from under the bed. Shit. It must be a reminder for Tony’s check-in call. If he didn’t respond in a certain number of minutes, this building would be overrun with his guys, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing? Diving down beside the bed, he fished the Starkphone out of his jacket and answered Happy’s anxious questioning.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said. “Change of plans. Don’t worry. I’ll check in later. Take the team back to the Tower for now.”

Loki watched him with knowing eyes. “Not taking me to prison, then?” he asked, amused.

Tony scoffed and shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Good,” Loki said slowly,” because there’s something I wanted to propose to you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tony said, detaching himself from Loki’s arms and sitting up on the bed. “What would that be?”

Loki said it as smoothly as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I thought perhaps the Avengers could use my help. Perhaps we might work together to defend this realm.”

Tony opened his mouth and closed it again. “Why? Don’t you still want to rule the Earth?”

Loki shrugged. “That’s not really very likely now, is it? But I know things that could help you when threats arrive from other realms, things even Thor doesn’t know. I can tell you how to fight them.”

“What threats?” Tony asked, concerned. “What do you know?”

“Now that the Chitauri have been here,” Loki said casually, “others will follow. It stands to reason.”

“But if you—”

The sound of a key turning in the front door lock made Loki rise from the bed. “Excuse me a moment,” he said and went into the living room.

Tony almost followed until he heard Craig’s voice saying, “What? In my bed? Since when?” and figured that he’d let Loki calm the big guy down before he showed his face.

Craig came into the bedroom fast, still wearing his lawyerly suit jacket. There was no mistaking that he was pissed off. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you find my address?”

“Luke gave it to me. For a price.” Tony chose to answer the easier question. He had no problem throwing creeper Luke under the bus.

“That bastard,” Craig muttered. “And you—this was why you wanted to know about Loki. You planned to come here and have sex with him. Do the other Avengers know?”

“Whoa there, sonny,” Tony said, rising and trying to preserve a bit of dignity by wrapping a sheet around his waist. “That’s not why I came here. It just sort of—happened,” he finished lamely. That’s all he needed—for Craig to tell Bruce and Natasha and Clint and Steve—oh, god, especially not Steve...

“I can’t believe you’re doing it in my house, in my bed.” During this exchange, Loki stood behind Craig, kissing and mouthing his face and neck, slowly peeling off his jacket, then his tie and shirt. 

“Yeah,” Tony smirked, “it’s all my fault. Loki’s not to blame at all.”

“I can’t believe you bribed Luke for my address!” Craig went on. Here Loki pulled him in for a long soul kiss. When Craig came up for air, he couldn’t seem to remember what he had been saying. “I don’t care who you are, you shouldn’t be here, man,” he concluded breathlessly.

As Loki’s kisses and caresses grew more intense, Craig’s complaints faded off to nothing. “Come,” Loki coaxed, finally undoing Craig’s pants and letting them drop to the floor. Kicking off his pants and shoes, Craig threw Tony one more irritated glance and let Loki maneuver him onto the bed. 

Tony had no desire to stay in the bedroom with these two, who were already writhing together and breathing hard. Snagging his shorts and his smartphone from the floor, Tony went in the bathroom. He felt irritated at being rousted out of bed. In fact, if he was honest with himself, he was a little jealous of Loki’s attention. But he really needed a shower, and, besides, it wouldn’t hurt to have some time out of Loki’s presence to think about the former god’s proposition.

* * *

Craig had been thinking about this all day, of the moment when he could hold Loki naked in his arms for the first time, and kiss him, and let Loki push inside him and fuck him on an actual bed, instead of standing in some funky broom closet or alley when he was so drunk he wasn’t completely sure it was really happening. And then it turned out that Tony Stark had beaten him to the punch. Stark, of all people! The famous womanizer. Who knew?

Craig’s first thought was that they’d conspired to trick him, that Loki would just go off with Stark and forget all about the guy who had rescued him from the loony bin. But now it seemed as if Loki was entirely focused on Craig, fully absorbed in driving him insane with lust. Deep kisses and light touches, Loki’s hands running over his chest, barely touching him, until Craig took matters into his own hands, shoving Loki over on his back, putting a condom and some lube on Loki’s cock, and suspending himself over it, watching Loki’s face as he let it slip slowly inside. Loki laughed silently until Craig dropped quickly, filling himself all at once, and then he had the satisfaction of hearing Loki gasp. 

Craig leaned back, making small up and down movements that wiped the smile off Loki’s face, making him desperate and glassy eyed. Loki’s hands were on Craig’s waist and ass and cock, but his eyes were on Craig’s face. For a long time, they stayed suspended that way, locked in some sort of unspoken contest. Finally, Craig cried out, sending ropes of semen across Loki’s chest, and Loki followed quickly. They collapsed together, laughing. Craig finally noticed that Stark wasn’t in bed anymore. Good riddance. Maybe he went home. 

They lay together until one thing led to another, which happened pretty quickly, since Craig couldn’t keep his hands off Loki. Despite his hungover pessimism in the car on Halloween night, Craig found that, far from destroying his fantasies, his encounter with Loki had redoubled them. Now he finally had his own bad-boy trickster god to himself, in his own bed, and he intended to make the most of it.

Loki gave him a blowjob that left him limp and dazed, but willing to be fucked again when Loki made him lie over a pillow and took him from behind. They rested then, with Craig dozing in Loki’s arms until Loki roused him.

“Come,” Loki said, “show me how to use your bathing chamber.”


	9. Sleepover

More than an hour had gone by, and the last of the summer sunlight was fading from the New York sky.

Craig and Loki had gone at it hard and noisily while Tony was in the shower and for a long time after, while he checked his email, and then they had gone in to shower. When he heard the water go on, he started for the bedroom, thinking to gather his clothes and beat it back to the Tower. But just as he rose from the couch, a knock came at the door. Tony froze. What a situation for someone to walk in on. He stood quietly, waiting. The knock came again. This time, he crossed over to the door and took a look through the peephole that made him recoil immediately. It was Luke.

What the hell was he doing here? The ambitious little twit was probably curious about why Tony had wanted Craig’s address. All Tony needed was someone trying to blackmail him. He could see the headlines now: “Billionaire Avenger Iron Man Has Sex with Alien Terrorist.” Perfect.

He looked through the peephole again, and Luke was gone. Tony hurried over to the windows. Carefully, he parted the curtains and tried to spot Luke on the street. It was getting dark now, and he was ten stories up, so it was hard to see. Finally he saw a figure that could have been Luke cross over to a café and go inside. Luke might be staking out the entrance. Tony couldn’t leave yet.

The sounds coming from the bathroom made it obvious that Craig and Loki wouldn’t be out anytime soon. They’d left the door open, and when Tony glanced inside, he saw Craig standing with both hands flat against the shower wall and Loki pounding into him from behind, his hands around Craig’s waist, stroking his erection.

Sighing, Tony wandered into the tiny kitchenette and opened the fridge. Between a take-out container of dubious pad thai and peanut butter and jelly on white, he chose the latter. Sitting on the couch eating, he wondered what to do. Maybe he could slip out a back entrance, if one existed, and avoid Luke altogether.

Loki and Craig finished their shower and returned to the bedroom. All was quiet, so he went in soundlessly to gather his clothes. The two of them had fallen asleep, tangled together. It gave Tony a pang to see them so—all those times in his childhood when he’d been ignored or left out came back to haunt him at moments like this. He shook it off angrily. He didn’t need Loki. There were plenty of women who’d kill to sleep with Tony, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so overcome by someone the way he had by Loki—his looks, his scent, the way he made love...

The king-sized bed and bedside tables were squeezed into a bedroom that was nearly too small for them, so the side of the bed where Tony’s clothes had fallen was maybe three feet from the wall. The only light came from the windows in the other room. Tony edged awkwardly alongside the bed in the dimness, knelt, and started feeling around for his things. He’d come up with his pants and one shoe when a strong hand took hold of his arm.

“Stark,” Loki whispered, “come here.”

Tony knew exactly why he didn’t just pull away and fish out the rest of his stuff and leave. Hearing all that energetic fucking and feeling wistful about it had made him so needy that the mere sound of the come-on in Loki’s voice gave him a hard-on.

Before he knew it, they were tangled on the bed, kissing and touching, by tacit mutual consent trying not to awaken Craig. Tony didn’t know how Loki had anything left after all the sex he’d had that day, but somehow he still seemed desperate with lust and full of passionate energy. Tony had been reenergized by a couple of hours rest and a peanut butter sandwich, but Loki had been going at it nonstop. What must he have been like before, when he was actually a god?

Without warning, Loki pulled Tony down onto the floor in the narrow space between the bed and the wall. Before Tony could catch his breath, Loki was inside him, while Tony tried to keep his left knee from banging against the wall at every lunge. Before long, he didn’t give a shit about his left knee, or anything else besides Loki’s body in his arms—his heat, his sexual exuberance, the way he varied the rhythm and depth of his thrusts to keep Tony in a intoxicating state between bliss and frustration.

“Oh, god,” Tony moaned, realizing belatedly when he heard Loki’s chuckle how much like worship that must sound. Loki kissed him then, and Tony grabbed Loki’s head with both hands, threading his fingers through Loki’s sleek hair, and came as hard as he ever had in his life.

They lay together as their breathing slowed. Craig still snored softly on the other side of the bed. In Tony’s ear, Loki’s laugh was almost silent. Rising off Tony’s body, he climbed on the bed, pulling Tony up behind him. Tony felt boneless, sated, content to nestle his face against Loki’s shoulder and go to sleep.

Idly, he wondered what had become of the condom.

_Jesus. Had there_ been _a condom?_

His sleepy mind decided that Loki hadn’t been human long enough to catch anything, and then he drifted off to sleep.

 


	10. The Morning After

It was barely dawn when Tony awoke, his morning erection pressed into the firm curve of Loki’s ass. His hand traced the outline, grabbing and spreading the resilient flesh as he nudged his cock forward. Arching his back, Loki responded, and Tony realized that Loki had been making out with Craig. Tony had never been one for threesomes that involved even one other man, but the thought that Loki might let himself be fucked while kissing Craig was irresistible. He reached back to the bedside table for the lube and a condom, but just as he had snagged them, he realized that Loki and Craig had both stopped moving. There was an urgent pounding at the door. Sitting up, the three of them looked at each other, uncertain.

“Shit, I forgot to tell you last night,” Tony said suddenly. “Luke knocked at the door while you were in the shower.”

Looking anxious, Craig rose, muttering, “Damn him. He’s been spying on me ever since Halloween, when Loki and I took off by ourselves.”

“What does he want of you?” Loki asked.

“He wants to find out if I’m gay,” Craig said angrily. “The partners are a bunch of homophobes.”

The penny dropped. So that’s what Luke was after. Tony had the urge to smack himself on the forehead.

“He wants to know if you’re happy?” Loki asked, confused.

Craig scoffed. “No, gay means a man who has sex with men.”

“ _Ergi_ ,” Loki murmured darkly. “Truly Odin has dropped me into a barbaric world.”

“You said it,” Craig spat. “If they figure it out they’ll find some excuse to fire me. Stay in here and close the door.” He pulled on his underwear and went out into the living room. Tony noticed that he wore those form-fitting briefs with a front pouch that made the most of what you had. Figured.

Tony rose too, putting on his boxers. Looking wary, Loki opened the bedroom door a crack and stood listening. Craig was back in a moment.

“There’s no one there now,” he said, shrugging. “Let’s make some coffee and see if I have anything to eat.” Tony could have told him he didn’t have much.

* * *

Thor had reached Midgard, though he wasn’t at all certain that he had evaded Heimdahl’s scrutiny. At least Odin hadn’t ordered him back to Asgard yet. Thor managed to reach Stark Tower and have a conversation with Bruce Banner, who told him that Stark had gone off looking for Loki at another man’s home and never returned. That thought alone made Thor feel very uneasy. Banner gave him what he called an address, and some instructions for reaching the place. Thor wished that Banner had offered to go with him, but he had not done so. Dutifully, full of misgivings, Thor set out alone.

Thor had finally located the correct building, though walking four blocks through dense crowds at street level cost him quite a bit of time. Several Midgardians, from all walks of life, seemed eager to accost him, some to congratulate or thank him for saving the city from Loki and the Chitauri, others to complain about how much damage the Avengers had done to the city themselves in the course of averting the attack. The largest group by far treated him with scorn and open skepticism, as if he were not the real Thor, but a Midgardian dressed up like Thor whose mental balance might be in question. Although Thor was disappointed, he understood how such a misunderstanding might occur and tried to treat it with good humor.

And there were a very few who wanted to ask about Loki, what he was _really_ like, and whether Thor thought he had brought down the Chitauri on New York intentionally, or if he had been under the control of some other entity, as rumor had it. Thor was happy to entertain this notion, because it was his secret hope that his brother hadn’t intended for things to get so bad, and that, if Thor could just talk to him alone, he could be redeemed.

The building, when he found it, had a vestibule, a small room that connected to the rest of the building by a locked door. Thor could have wrenched it off its hinges, of course, but he did not wish to cause any more damage here. He was no longer at war, so now he needed to follow the customs of human beings. It seemed that there were two ways to enter: with a key, or by pushing a button next to the surname of the person you wished to visit. Thor had no key, and he did not know the name of Loki’s friend. None of the three people who had entered so far had allowed him to enter with them.

He had wasted much time and was eager to find Loki. He knew that the man in question lived on the tenth floor, so he decided to fly there and look in the windows, seeking Loki that way. He knew it was not proper in this world to spy through windows, but thought it might be excusable in this case, and preferable to breaking the door.

He counted up ten stories and started flying slowly around, peering through the windows. Some had no curtains, but these apartments were unoccupied. Others had thick drapes that he couldn’t see through. If Loki were in one of those apartments, Thor would never find him. Those with sheer curtains were hard to see into. Thor had to go right up to the window and hover there, straining to see inside.

What he hadn’t counted on was the attention this activity would attract at ground level, where a large crowd was gathering, looking up and pointing at him. They didn’t seem all that friendly.

* * *

The food Craig provided seemed strange to Loki—some sort of paste tasting of nuts with a sweet, fruity substance, both spread on a mushy sort of bread. The hot brown beverage that went with it seemed to restore his energy, much like an Asgardian drink made from fermented and roasted beans. Loki didn’t like any of it, but he was starved enough to wolf it down. His last meal had been the previous morning at the hospital where he had been kept against his will. He was beginning to wonder if Midgard offered anything good to eat at all—unfortunate, since this human body seemed to demand sustenance more insistently than it had in its former state.

He had enjoyed his couplings with both of these Midgardians. Craig was young and energetic and clearly adored him, and he had thought of a clever plan to effect Loki’s escape from the hospital. Such guile ought to be rewarded. Making Stark crave him had been an unexpected victory that had so far kept him out of prison. If he was going to be forced to stay on this world for a while, he would continue with both of them and hope that Stark would agree to have him work with the Avengers. He couldn’t yet see any better possibilities on this benighted world, and, besides, he wished Thor to know that he had copulated with Stark. Making his not-brother jealous might bring Thor back into his arms.

They finished eating, and Craig put everything back in order. Stark looked at his device, playing his thumbs over it. Loki sat, looking out over the river, wondering what would come next. He had not clothed himself, partly out of an unwillingness to touch that inferior cloth. More than that, he didn’t feel like himself in Midgardian guise. He wished he could wear his armor, but he understood why that was not the best idea. He had no powers now, could not make himself invisible or create a double or change his shape with an illusion. To any Midgardian harboring resentment over the recent Chitauri invasion, Loki would be fair game.

He was not used to feeling like this—aimless, bored, vulnerable, unsure what to do next. In Asgard, his brain was always teeming with ideas and schemes, his body restless and full of energy. And if nothing exciting presented itself, he would retire to his chambers and study the old texts, learning new tricks and spells. Even if he had his books here, their study would be useless, since magic was far from his hand. Truth be told, he was _tired_. To think that one could exhaust oneself from a few hours of lovemaking was absurd, but that seemed to be the Midgardian condition.

Stark stood and stretched, then went over by the window where Loki sat and put a hand on his shoulder. Loki allowed the familiarity. “So, Reindeer Games”—Loki spared him a jaundiced glance—“I’ve got to go. But it’s been”—Stark paused as if unsure what word to use—“an unexpected pleasure,” he finished ironically. “And I’ll consider your proposal. Where will you be if I need to get in touch with you?”

Loki gestured to the room. “Here, I suppose,” he said, without much enthusiasm, though Craig’s apartment was infinitely preferable to Stark’s basement jail.

“Good.” Stark patted his shoulder lightly and turned towards the bedroom to get his clothing.

A sudden scratching at the door stopped him in his tracks. Loki rose. Craig came out of the kitchenette. Unconsciously, they assembled in a line, facing the doorway.

There was a click. Someone was coming into the apartment.


	11. Sacrifice

“Hey,” Craig said indignantly as the door swung open. “What do you think you’re—”

The man in the doorway, who was wholly unfamiliar to Loki, stared at the three of them open mouthed. “I’m the super,” he said defensively. “I have a right to enter if there’s an emergency.”

“There isn’t an emergency,” Craig said heatedly, stepping up and grabbing the door to close it. But another man pushed the super aside, forcing his way into the apartment. “Luke!” Craig exclaimed. “Are you crazy? What are you doing here?”

Loki recognized him. “Iron Man from fucking Halloween,” he said.

“You’re Loki!” Luke said accusingly. “You’re actually the real Loki. And you’re naked.”

“And you’re an idiot,” Loki said tranquilly.

Tony stepped forward. “What’s your business here, son?” he asked, trying to look dignified while dressed in nothing but his shorts. “I paid you enough to keep your nose out of my affairs.”

“I knew it,” Luke said triumphantly, looking between Craig and Tony. “I knew you were both gay.”

“So what?” Craig cried. “It’s none of your damn business.”

Nervously, the super tapped Luke on the shoulder. “Uh, sir, you promised me a 50. Come on, man, pay up.” Luke handed him a bill and kicked the door shut behind him. Craig stepped back with the others, facing him.

“Bribery, too?” Craig asked rhetorically. “Just get out of here now and I won’t call the cops.”

Luke scoffed. “Bribery? What’s that next to treason?” 

“Treason?” Craig looked bewildered. “This is breaking and entering. Get out!”

Glancing at each other with silent understanding, Tony and Loki stepped up to deal with the intruder, but stopped and backed up as one when he pulled a pistol out of his jacket.

“Treason,” Luke said firmly. “Consorting with the enemy. The penalty is death.”

***

Without breaking eye contact with the guy with the gun Tony pushed the panic button on his Starkphone. Now Happy could hear everything that went on in the room, so Tony had to tell him what to expect.

“What’s with the gun, Luke?” he asked reasonably. “You don’t need that. Why don’t you put it away and sit down, and we’ll talk?”

“Talk about what?” Luke asked wildly. “The world’s gone crazy. First these creatures come out of the sky and break the city apart. And then the Avengers break it apart more, and everybody calls them heroes. And now Loki’s here, walking around, and no one’s doing anything about it. And you’re sleeping with him!” With great trepidation Stark watched the gun swing around wildly as Luke spoke.

“You can’t shoot Loki,” Tony lied. “Bullets can’t hurt him. Might as well not even try.” He thought longingly of his watch lying under the bed in the next room.

“I’m not shooting him. I’m shooting you, and him,” the gun waved towards Craig. “You’re the traitors. Him, I’m taking prisoner.”

Loki scoffed audibly into the shocked silence.

***

“Hey, Luke, don’t do it, man,” Craig pleaded. His voice was coarse with fear.

Loki moved forward slowly, almost imperceptibly, while Luke was engaging with Tony and Craig. If he were close enough, and if the gun swayed far enough to the side, Loki thought he might be able to get it into his hands.

“I have to,” Luke said determinedly, wiping sweat from his brow with his free hand. Breathing in hard, he took aim at Craig.

Loki had only known Craig a few days, but their lives had become irretrievably entangled. Poor Craig, so earnest, so innocent—although not carnally—so worried about Loki’s fate. Craig, who had admired Loki from afar, making up stories in his head about him, craving him, kneeling to him in that terrible washroom—why, it was a sort of worship, and that was something Loki hadn’t enjoyed for a very long time.

“No,” Loki said firmly, stepping between Craig and Luke, “you can’t shoot him. I won’t let you.”

“Loki, the safety’s off,” Stark murmured urgently. Loki glanced at him, not getting the import of his words, but noting that Stark’s face looked pale and worried.

“You won’t _let_ me? _You_?” Luke’s voice shook and caught in his throat. The gun wavered in his hand. “You killed people. You wrecked this place, this city.” He took a step to the side, trying to keep his sights on Craig, but Loki moved along with him, staying between the muzzle and its target. “Come on, Craig, you coward. Quit hiding behind him. You slept with him. That’s as bad as committing his crimes yourself. That’s why you have to—”

The gun belched fire.

As the bullet came toward him, time slowed to a crawl. Loki’s fragile mortal body would be broken now, he knew. This would be the end of him. This was how he would die. He didn’t feel angry or frightened. It was good that Craig would live. Craig, who had risked everything for him. Maybe he wouldn’t be blamed for this debacle—they could put it all on Loki. And Thor would be better off, too. No more chasing after Loki, cleaning up his messes. Clean slate. No more guilt, no more failed plans, no more angry looks from Father, no more disappointment from Frigga, the only mother he had ever known. “I’m sorry,” he murmured to all of them. Time sped up. The bullet entered his skin.

Then all Loki knew was a massive thump to the chest and a deafening roar of sound that seemed to engulf him, a mighty explosion that dwindled into the silvery tinkle of shattering glass.


	12. Redemption

Later, no one knew if the gun went off first or if Mjolnir had struck the glass a moment before.

All they knew was that, suddenly, Thor was in the room, wresting the gun out of Luke’s grip and holding him until Tony’s team burst in and took him into custody.

“I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t,” Luke repeated stupidly. “It just went off. And, anyway, I meant to shoot Craig, not Loki. Loki was supposed to go on trial before an international tribunal. And then—”

“Shut up, Luke,” Stark said roughly. “No one gives a shit what you have to say.” He felt sick at heart, way sadder than he would have thought.

In the center of the room, Loki lay dead. With the luck of the zealot who shoots without taking aim, Luke had shot him right in the center of his human heart, the bullet so perfectly placed that there was hardly any blood. Tony, Craig, and Thor stood looking down at him in shock. Craig had tears in his eyes, and Tony couldn’t blame him.

“Boss?” Happy said tentatively, laying a hand on his arm. “Are you okay? You look pretty broken up.”

“Yeah,” Stark admitted, “I am. Without his powers, Loki wasn’t such a bad guy.”

When the cops arrived, Luke stopped his litany of self-incrimination, invoking his right to counsel as soon as the plastic zipties went on his wrists.

With Luke’s departure, the room fell silent. Happy sent his men outside to wait in the hall while he stood discreetly by the front door. Thor knelt and took Loki’s body into his arms. “Oh, brother,” he said mournfully, “how I will miss you. If only I had arrived sooner.”

Craig knelt facing Thor, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I can’t believe this happened,” he said, “any of this. I just met him two days ago, and now he’s dead. I only met him because I was dressed up like you for Halloween. It was a coincidence, really. He just walked up to me on the street because he thought I was you, and—” He couldn’t seem to stop talking.

“You dressed up like me? For what purpose?” Thor’s puzzlement distracted him momentarily from his mourning.

Flummoxed by the question, Craig gulped hard. “There’s one day a year where it’s... it’s sort of a custom to dress up like heroes.” In his distress, Craig had forgotten that the gods from Asgard didn’t necessarily understand what Halloween was all about.

Thor appeared to be thinking very hard. “How could Loki think you were me?”

“We... that is, I’ve been told that we look alike.” Craig’s fear of offending Loki’s brother had made him pale.

“I do not see the resemblance,” Thor said slowly. Stark looked from one man to the other. Except for a slight difference of scale, they could have been brothers, or one man at two different stages of life.

“I have a question to ask you,” Thor continued hesitantly, clearly trying not to say something rude. “I wonder why Loki is naked and you are wearing undergarments. From what I have seen of your society, it is not customary to go about without clothing.”

Stark and Craig met each other’s eyes. Craig looked so horrified that Stark almost laughed, though, come to think of it, he wasn’t sure what Thor would do with the truth either.

No one spoke for a moment. “So, Thor,” Tony said, thinking quickly, “why was Loki here, anyway, and without his powers? Was it supposed to be some kind of punishment?”

Thor nodded ruefully and stroked Loki’s hair. “Yes, indeed. Our father was much displeased with Loki’s destruction of your city, and even more displeased by Loki’s lack of remorse when faced with an accounting of his deeds. So Odin threw him down to the place he had damaged in the hope that he would learn some lesson here.” He stopped and sighed deeply. ”Oh, brother, how I wish you could have been redeemed before you died.”

“You should know,” Craig said eagerly, “that Loki saved my life.”

“He did?” Thor’s face changed from despondent to hopeful in a heartbeat as he looked from Tony to Craig for confirmation.

“He did,” Tony affirmed. “Loki took that bullet for Craig.” He wondered if they were jumping down an even deeper rabbit hole than sex with this revelation.

But Thor looked completely transformed. He placed Loki’s body back on the floor and stood waiting to one side, a huge smile dawning on his face.

“Thor,” Tony said gently, “he’s still dead. I mean, his final act was a good one, but he...”

“Wait,” said Thor. “And please step back from him. I would not wish for you to be injured.” Craig stood uncertainly and walked over next to Stark.

From the broken window, the light seemed to intensify into a beam until Tony and Craig were forced to shield their eyes. A terrible spasm shook Loki’s corpse. Everyone stepped back. Wheezing, he breathed in deeply, hoarsely, as if trying to suck all the air from the room. His eyes shot open, and then he was standing there before them, alive. 

He held his hands out and watched in wonder as a green mist rose from his palms. “Well,” he said, beaming at them all, “I’m back. Did you miss me?” Craig threw his arms around Loki’s neck, while Loki wrapped him in a close embrace. Stark could see from Thor’s changing expression that he had intended to embrace his brother until Craig had beaten him to it, and that he was starting to put two and two together about the reason for everyone’s lack of clothing. 

Just at that moment, attracted by the noise, the building super returned and saw the bloodstained carpet, the shattered window, and the broken door.

“You have two weeks to vacate the apartment,” he told Craig grimly, “and you better pay for damages, or they’ll have your ass in court. The invoice will be in your mailbox tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fired, too,” Craig said ruefully after the man had left, “but it was worth it to meet you. I think.”

“Stark will pay for the damages,” Loki offered magnanimously. “After all, he...benefitted too.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, why not?” he said. There was an unspoken aura of blackmail in the room.

“And I have one other condition,” Loki said.

“Condition for what?” Tony asked, already annoyed at his newly resurrected lover.

“For working with the Avengers.”

“What exactly are you going to do for us, again?” Stark asked dryly. “Now that you have your powers back, I’m not sure I want you anywhere near Stark Tower, let alone New York City."

Loki shrugged. “I’m sorry you are so untrusting. Now that I have my powers back I can repair Stark Tower and other damaged buildings. And I can help to protect the Earth from unwelcome invasions.”

Stark thought fast. Quick repairs performed with Loki’s magic would save him a lot of time and resources. And if Loki were to become an Avenger... “What’s your condition?”

“I will work with the Avengers provided you give Craig a job and a place to live,” Loki said haughtily.

“What am I running, a charity?” Tony sighed. “Well, I can always use another lawyer,” he said resignedly, “and there are plenty of rooms in the Tower. Or there will be, after _you_ finish the renovation of the damage _you_ caused,” he added pointedly. Secretly, he resolved to have a conversation with Thor later about keeping Loki in line if need be. Loki was being suspiciously undemanding.

Loki smiled. “I will certainly be able to help with that,” he said.

“Loki,” Thor said suddenly, “I am happy that you will help the Avengers, but is there a reason you are still unclothed?”

“Ah,” Loki said, looking down at himself as if he hadn’t noticed. “Ah, yes, of course.” He waved a hand to dress himself in his green and gold leather armor. Stark thought longingly of his own pants on the floor in the other room. Maybe he could sneak off now and gather his affairs. 

But before he could even take a step in that direction, a babble of voice suddenly rose from the street through the broken window. Walking over, Loki glanced down and laughed. “Brother,” he said, “you seem to have attracted some admirers.”

Stark looked at Happy, who said, “Yeah, they were there when we arrived. They’re not too thrilled that Thor broke in here. They were saying that the Avengers are as bad as the Chitauri, and stuff like that.”

“I shall go down and speak with them,” Thor said.

A distant siren seemed to be getting closer. Loki smiled. “While you do that, the rest of us will go to Stark Tower,” he said.

“How will we do that?” Craig asked. “The crowd will never let us through.”

“We’ll travel by secret ways that I alone know,” Loki said mysteriously. He reached out both hands towards Tony and Craig.

“Can we get dressed first?” Stark asked desperately, not wanting Loki at the Tower without Thor there as a fail safe. “And, besides, I’m not even sure we should go to the Tower now. Why don’t we stay here a while until Thor is ready, and talk about how we’re going to do the repairs?”

“I don’t see the need to wait for my brother,” Loki said with what sounded to Tony like great forbearance. “Let’s go there quickly, shall we?"

Tony wasn’t at all sure why Loki was in such a big hurry to get to Stark Tower, but he didn’t have any control over it. One moment he was nearly naked and the next his clothes were simply _on_ him. And when Loki’s hand grasped his shoulder he was whirled away into a vortex.

* * *

They arrived at Stark Tower in a rush of wind that popped Tony’s ears and left him dizzy. For a moment he couldn’t identify the mechanical shrieking he heard, until he realized it was the Tower’s alarm system, signaling, as it was built to do, that someone unauthorized had appeared in the penthouse room. Loki waved a hand to turn it off. That in itself was worrisome.

“Mr. Stark?” came the voice of Happy’s number two over the intercom. He must have seen them appear when the alarm went off. “Is that Loki, sir? I’m dialing the Captain and Dr. Banner now.”

What to do? Let the Avengers come and battle Loki again—surely he wouldn’t let the Hulk take him by surprise twice? Or play it cool for the moment? After all, Loki had been his…lover. Yeah. Strange as it would seem.

“Stand down, Morris,” Stark said calmly. “We’re all right here. Just stay on alert in case I need you." 

“Cautious,” Loki said, grinning. “Don’t take anything for granted. I would expect nothing less.” He turned and surveyed the room, still damaged from his passing mere weeks before. “We have much to do here,” he said seriously. “But, first, I believe you promised Craig a job?” 

“Go down to the fourth floor, Human Services,” Tony said. “Ask for Maggie. I’ll call her right now and tell her you’re coming.” Reaching into his pocket, he found his Starkphone right where it belonged. After making the call and sending Craig on his way, Tony checked his watch. It looked fine, but he couldn’t tell if the glove would function unless he deployed it, and that might seem a little hostile.

“Don’t worry,” Loki chuckled, “I didn’t hex it. If you need your glove, it’s there.”

“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but why are you still being so nice?” Tony blurted out. “I get why you wanted to distract me with sex to keep me from putting you in a cell, but what do you have to gain now?”

“Until today, you didn’t see me at my best,” Loki said confidingly. “I’d been tortured, you know, just before I met you, and forced to take on an army I didn’t want to lead.” He lowered his voice. “I knew they’d lose, you see. And I wanted to rule Asgard, not Midgard.”

“Who tortured you?” Tony went straight to the point. “Why did they want Earth, and do they still want it? Is that what you meant when you talked about an invasion?” He could feel the adrenaline leaping through his body. Now they were getting at the truth of the matter.

“His name is Thanos,” Loki said heavily, “and he wants the whole universe, not just Midgard, but without the Tesseract, he’s not likely to get it anytime soon. That’s why we have to get ready.”

“Does Thor know any of this?”

“Some. Not all.”

“How long do we have?”

Loki shrugged. “Years, possibly. But we can’t depend on that.”

The adrenaline was making Tony sharp and angry. “Are you going to use this fight as a way to rule Asgard? Or Earth? Or both?”

“At the moment, my taste for rule has evaporated. I’d much rather have revenge.”

“How do I know you’re not lying? You killed people.”

Loki smiled, but not happily. “Lying and killing people are not connected, you know. There will be no way to prove to you I’m not lying until it’s too late. And, yes, I know I killed people. But you’ll have to trust me.” 

“That was easier when you didn’t have your powers,” Stark said moodily. The fate of the Earth was once again in the balance, and he had no damn idea what to do.

“Of what use was I to you then, besides being a good fuck?” Loki asked facetiously. “Could I do this an hour ago?” He held out both hands, palms facing away from him.

Tony watched, fascinated. It was like seeing a film run in reverse to see the damage to the penthouse disappear, bit by bit. “What about the rest of the building?” he asked ungraciously.

“Patience, Stark, patience. And, in case you were wondering,” he smirked, “I’m a better fuck now.”

***

Hours later, when Loki had repaired all the damage to Stark Tower and completed the improvements Tony had designed, Craig came back ecstatic about his new job, especially the salary. “Thank you, Mr. Stark,” he said sincerely, “and Loki. Without you, I’d still be in the closet, trying to hide from the homophobic partners at Dunham & Greene.”

“Let’s sue them for discrimination,” said Stark impetuously. “Why not?”

Craig’s face lit up. “I’d be more than happy to work on it, Mr. Stark.”

“Of course,” Tony said. “Of course you can.” He was warming up to his former rival. Watching Loki work with magic had turned him on again, and he couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to sleep with a god. He had a feeling Loki was going to continue sleeping with both of them, so they’d better get used to sharing.

Thor arrived, landing on the parapet with a confused and clouded expression on his normally open face. As he noticed the repairs Loki had made, his expression lightened. Tony slid open the door to let him in.

“Brother,” Thor said, smiling at Loki, “you have been helping.”

Loki looked a bit annoyed, as a younger brother would at an elder brother’s condescension. “And what of your fans?” he asked with false sweetness. “Did they pay you sufficient obeisance?”

“I do not ask mortals to worship me,” Thor said firmly, “but a little courtesy would be welcome.”

A smile quirked Loki’s lips. “What discourtesy did they pay you, Brother?” he asked innocently.

“They accused the Avengers of causing more damage to this city than the Chitauri, which of course is far from true. If we caused some damage, it was necessary to repel the invaders.” Thor seemed more sad than indignant. “It makes me wonder if the people of this place will accept us as helpers. I fear they will never accept you, Loki, no matter how much good you do.”

“We could alter their memories,” Loki said speculatively.

“Loki, no! That would be…would not be…we have no right!” Thor sputtered.

“Just joking, Brother,” Loki said sweetly.

“Can he do that without the staff?” Tony asked, appalled. _Great. Something else to worry about._

“Yes,” Thor said resentfully, “he can, but only one person at a time, and he has to touch you.”

_Had he and Craig been altered?_ Tony thought in a panic. _What if—_

“Don’t worry,” Loki said, laughing. “Remember, I had no powers when you fell so eagerly into bed with me.”

Thor looked horrified. Tony figured that Loki had just been waiting for a chance to drop that particular piece of information. He didn’t know what to say, so he kept his mouth shut for once. Anything he said would make it worse.

“Brother, I must speak with you and the other Avengers,” Loki said, not giving Thor time to react. “There are many things about Thanos you must know. About preparing Midgard for his arrival.”

“We have time for that,” Thor said angrily. “You took advantage of two people, or maybe more! And, what are your intentions, now that you have your powers back? Let us discuss that first.”

“He didn’t take advantage of me,” Craig said stoutly, as he stepped over to stand by Loki’s side. “I wanted him even before I knew him. No problem here.”

Thor turned to Tony, a silent question in his eyes. “Loki’s not lying,” Tony said, feeling himself blush. “I could have walked away. Instead I stayed. My choice.”

Despite their denials, Thor’s fury was becoming more and more focused on his brother. “We must speak alone, Loki,” he said through gritted teeth. It suddenly occurred to Tony that there was more here than met the eye. Was Thor worried about what Loki would do now, or was he jealous?

“We must speak, I agree,” Loki said, meeting Thor’s fierce scowl with a beaming grin. “Stark, is there an extra room we can use? Preferably one with a bed?”

“There will be no need of a bed,” Thor growled, “in fact—” 

“Quiet, Thor!” Loki said, laughing. “Now, where is that room?”

Tony directed them down to the 52nd floor, where there were several empty suites on the building’s west side. Loki and Thor took the elevator. Watching them leave the penthouse, Tony wondered if they would even make it down the seven floors before Thor would act his anger out on Loki.

“Well,” he said to Craig as the elevator doors closed, “I hope they don’t wreck the building again now that Loki fixed it.”


	13. Loki Settles In

As soon as the suite door closed behind them, Thor took Loki by the shoulders and shook him.

“Careful, Brother,” Loki said breathlessly, “these walls are not nearly as sturdy as those in the palace of Asgard.”

Thor’s face was flushed, his eyes bright with anger. “Loki, I am greatly disappointed in you, and so is Father.”

“Oh, really? Father is disappointed?” Loki asked sharply. “And yet he allowed his spell to break just now for an act of self-sacrifice I performed. Can you explain that?” Loki’s former amusement had worn thin in the face of Thor’s persistent fury.

Thor stopped, his mouth agape, confused by his own senseless behavior. “No, Brother, you are right. I know not why I spoke those words.”

“But I know why,” Loki said slyly. “You’re jealous.”

“What? No,” Thor sputtered. “You can’t possibly think that—”

“You are,” Loki purred. “You’re jealous.”

Thor fumed. “You are trying to distract—”

Their mouths were already so close together that Loki hardly had to move forward to kiss him. But once he did, Thor relaxed into him, and when the first kiss broke, he heaved a mighty sigh and pulled Loki closer to him for a second, deeper kiss. Thor couldn’t help himself, but he felt a fool. After all his railing, it took one touch of Loki’s lips to make him surrender.

In moments, they were on the bed, their clothes gone, and Thor remembered with a pang that this was the way it had always been with Loki, until Loki had cut him off and gone his own way. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured, raising his hips to meet Loki’s rutting against him. 

“I know,” Loki breathed. He was on fire, moving over Thor’s body, pleasuring him with the lightest of touches, but not enough, never enough. Thor wanted to grasp Loki in his strong hands, keep him in one place. He wanted to pin Loki down and hold him, have him, but he also wanted Loki’s attention on him, and above all he feared pushing his brother away. So he moved with Loki’s desire, matching caress for caress, panting with lust but holding back from taking charge of this encounter.

Loki gave Thor a wicked look and knelt between his legs, urging him into that most vulnerable position that he had only ever assumed for Loki, out of love, and lust, and trust that he was never sure wasn’t misplaced.

Loki made sure Thor saw him slicking himself and poising to enter, then entering steady and slow, letting Thor watch his face, feeling every inch as it slipped inside, trying not to whimper with need as he felt himself filled. When Loki was fully seated, his face showed his desire, everything Thor wanted to see there, with an edge of mastery, of triumph, that sparked anger in Thor’s chest. This was the game they played, had always played. Tonight, Loki was winning.

And when Loki had thoroughly fucked him, when Thor was sated, and limp, and boneless, Loki took his own pleasure, crying out with it, and that’s when Thor saw a glimpse of what Loki felt to find Thor again, plainly written on his face.

For a long time, they lay together in peace and silence that neither wanted to break.

“Loki,” Thor said hesitantly, no longer able to contain the question, “did you really mistake your friend for me, the first night you were exiled here? Is that why you...?”

“Yes, for a while,” Loki answered, leaving the second half-question alone, “I had just fallen—I couldn’t see, couldn’t use my magic, and he was dressed like you. He and his friends took me somewhere, and we drank deeply—I was mortal, remember.”

“You were drunk?” Thor asked, surprised.

“I was drunk,” Loki agreed.

“And then what?”

“And then I sensed that he wanted me.” Loki shrugged as if it were obvious. 

“And you...?” Thor had the look of someone who both wants and doesn’t want to hear the answer to his question—not quite cringing, but hanging back, an anchor dragging against his words.

“He knelt to me. He sucked me.” Loki was being uncharacteristically terse, forcing Thor to ask further questions.

“He drank your seed?” Thor felt his throat constrict around the words.

“No. He sucked me just long enough to make me ready, and then I fucked him.” Loki lay on his side, supporting his head with one hand, while with the other he traced shapes on Thor’s broad, sweaty chest. His face was impassive, impossible to read. If Loki had smirked, or smiled, Thor would have throttled him.

“And all that time...” Thor’s voice failed him.

“Yes? And all that time, what?” Loki was also being uncharacteristically dense.

“And all that time, you thought he was me?” Thor cringed when he heard the plaintive quality of his own words.

“Ah. No, I realized my mistake when he sucked me. You do it differently. I remembered.” His finger traced circles around each of Thor’s nipples, then down the center to his navel. “I felt a fool,” he said, just in time to stop Thor’s impulse to throw him on his back and either ravish or kill him, maybe both. “Imagine, spending several hours with a stranger and thinking he was my brother.”

“I remember, too,” Thor said emotionally. “We were good together. Like just now.”

“We can be again.” Loki met his eyes. “Why not?”

“Then you will no longer have that man, or...did you also have Stark?”

“My poor, jealous Thor,” Loki said, finally smiling. “Of _course_ I had Stark.”

It was too much. As Thor reached out, Loki evaded his grasp by leaping out of bed. “You expect me to give them up? What about you and your women?” 

“What about them?” Thor’s voice rose with his temper as he sat up and scowled at Loki. 

“What was the first thing you did when Odin tossed you down to Midgard? You fell into bed with Lady Jane.” Loki was laughing unabashedly now, but his eyes were wary, watching Thor for the first sign of movement.

“I did _not_ fall into bed with her!” Thor roared. “I would not defile her.” 

“But she wants you. It’s obvious. You mean you haven’t taken her to bed? You shock me, Brother.” Loki put one hand to his heart, miming a stumble. “What are you waiting for? She’s mortal. You know how short their lives are. Get busy, man.” 

“You want me to go to her?” Thor felt hopelessly confused.

“You’ll never give up women. You never have.” Loki was spelling it out. “And I’ll never give up other men. But why can’t we still have each other? Think about it.”

Thor thought about it. “Why indeed?” he murmured. “Perhaps. But you must return to Asgard with me.”

“Why?” Loki queried sharply. “Because Father said so?”

A hesitant knock at the door inspired Loki to sigh and clothe them both with a gesture.

Tony stood outside. “The crashing and yelling have stopped, so I assume you got it all out of your systems?”

“For the moment,” Loki said, smirking. “You know how it is.”

“So I thought we might have a talk about your plans.”

“My plans.” Loki said it flatly, as a statement.

“Are you staying here? Or are you going back to Asgard?”

“Asgard,” Thor said.

“Staying,” Loki said.

“But, Loki,” Thor said, “what if the people of this realm don’t want you here? They didn’t seem to want me here a few hours ago.”

“They’ll get used to us again,” Loki said, holding out his open palms. “Remember all the chaos we used to make in the old days? And they loved us.”

“Not always. Sometimes they seemed rather afraid. What do you think, Stark?” Thor asked helplessly.

They both looked at Tony, who shrugged. “I’m more than a little worried about Loki’s intentions,” he said frankly, figuring Thor would protect him if Loki decided to get rough. “All that stuff you said about freedom being ‘life’s great lie,’ and boots stepping on ants,” he continued, looking Loki in the eye. “If you stay here, you have to promise not to do any damage—not _any_ —and to leave people alone.”

“I have to leave people alone?” Loki mused, still looking deep into Stark’s eyes. “Does that mean we can’t continue what we started this morning? I mean, when I turned my back to you in bed, I was rather hoping that you would...” He trailed off suggestively.

Tony hadn’t forgotten, and Loki’s lascivious words sent a jolt of arousal through his gut. Yeah, waking up with his hard-on against Loki’s perfect ass, reaching back for a condom, and then...Luke interfered. He could feel his cock rising, his skin tingling, his eyes dilating. And he could see Loki watching it happen with that knowing leer on his face. Damn, this was wrong. Was he going to risk the world for a chance to fuck Loki? That was an exaggeration, right? Thor was here, and then there was the Hulk, and Loki didn’t have the Tesseract or the magic staff anyway, and... And Tony couldn’t help himself.

“I have no problem with Loki staying a while,” he said, trying to sound righteous and casual. Strangely, it didn’t seem as if Thor had figured out what was going on yet. “He can help us rebuild the city. It might be a little hard to explain to most people what he’s doing here, but if he starts fighting bad guys with us, I’m sure eventually they’ll come to see him as one of the Avengers.” As he was speaking, a part of his brain was going over schemes to get Loki in a room alone, as soon as possible.

Loki snorted. “It’s not as if they love any of you right now.”

“Will you fight by our side, Brother?” Thor asked hopefully.

“Why not?” Loki said. “If you stop insisting that I go back to Asgard.”

“Agreed,” Thor said firmly. “I cannot speak for Father, but if you keep this agreement, I believe he will not demand your return.”

“It’s settled then,” Tony said. “Loki will stay and rebuild the city and fight for the Avengers. And you’ll both help us plan for the arrival of this Thanos guy.”

“You’ve given me much work to do,” Loki said slowly, with an ironic quirk of one eyebrow. “Will I have any time for play, I wonder?”

A panoply of thoughts and images flashed through Tony’s brain. Himself, on top of Loki, vigorously wiping that smug look off his face; Loki giving him another of those astonishing blowjobs; himself and Loki relaxing in the giant hot tub in his room, maybe with Craig, or even Thor. With so much to look forward to, Tony could be generous.

Loki and Thor were looking at him curiously, waiting for his answer while he stared into space. Tony snapped back to reality and cleared his throat. Loki was distracting him. He at least had to pretend to be in charge. “You might,” he said arrogantly, as if he had any control over what Loki did at all, “if you cooperate.”

Loki grinned provocatively. “I’m sure you’ll be _entirely_ satisfied,” he said.


End file.
